Paradoxical
by Dubbers
Summary: The Doctor pays the TW3 Hub a quick visit, leaving the team one down again, but it's not Jack who's gone. And Torchwood's troubles just keep mounting as a Time Agent appears among them wearing a hauntingly familiar face. Bits of Janto and others.
1. Chapter 1

**Paradoxical or How not to prevent a paradox by Ianto Jones(es)**

**Paradoxical: inclined to paradoxes**

**Set some point in season 2, after KKBB, before Reset - I'll decide later. Probably spoilers for everything eventually, and for some DW, minor crossover to start with, greater later on.**

**Unbeta'd, I own only the mistakes, and please bear with me as this is the first long plot fic I've attempted, so I may get the pace wrong at first.**

**Enjoy :)**

Chapter One**  
**

Ianto was deep in the archives, plodding through the tunnels when he heard it.

Gwen was staring at her empty coffee cup, wondering where Ianto was when she heard it.

Owen was pretending to work whilst actually staring at Gwen when he heard it.

Tosh was trying to figure out the benefits of making the cog door quieter; attempting not to think about Owen when she heard it.

Jack was asleep at his desk, bringing his mind back into consciousness when he heard it. At first he thought it was a lingering dream, teasing him; but one look out of the window verified its presence.

[Insert Tardis noise here]

As the blue box materialised in front of the main door Jack ran from his office to the railings. The other three in the room swivelled their chairs to follow both him and the box. They all looked suitably anxious; probably something to do with the fact that the last time the strange noise had been heard, Jack had gone missing for a while and come back..._different._

The whirring finally came to a stop and a man with sticky up hair in a pinstriped suit stepped out. He scanned the room, eyes briefly stopping on Owen, Tosh and then Gwen with a puzzled expression before moving onto Jack, and then off around the room's occupants once more. He started to look anxious.

"No no no no no..." he seemed to be muttering under his breath. Then his face broke into a grin as Ianto hurriedly burst through the door from the archives looking somewhat ticked off.

Before he could speak however the Doctor bounded over to him and grabbed his arm, pumping it up and down in what wouldn't class for a handshake in any galaxy. "Nice to see you again Mr. Jones!"

The whole room, Ianto included, raised an eyebrow at the statement.

Ianto gave a half smile and slipped behind his polite facade. "I'm sorry sir, but you must be mistaken, we haven't met."

"Oh but we will!" The Doctor continued cheerfully, ignoring Ianto's pointed look about the grip his hand was still in, and then seemed to rethink some incomprehensible puzzle in his brain. "Although technically, we just have. Met that is. But no time for introductions, we really must fly."

His face became serious once more. He turned to look up at Jack as Ianto was still pondering who else was stowed away in the old fashioned police box.

"I'm sorry Jack, but he'll explain everything." Suddenly the Doctor, with Ianto's hand still firmly in his grip, sprinted back towards the Tardis, dragging the young man in with him. The door slammed swiftly behind them.

Jack reacted first, jumping over the railings right down to the ground floor, but by the time he'd landed the terrible noise had started up again.

He sprinted towards the disappearing box that held Ianto prisoner. The others had only just regained their bearings – too late – and were left staring at their Captain. Jack flung himself through the air where the Tardis used to be.

Gwen blinked.

Owen swore.

Tosh looked on forlornly.

Jack landed in a heap on the floor.

Everyone was silent for a few seconds before a barely audible, wretched 'no' burst the air in the Hub. Jack clamped a hand over his mouth to stop any more sounds escaping to betray his anguish. He couldn't believe it: the Doctor had just stolen Ianto! Pulling himself up, Jack's face was blank and expressionless; only his eyes revealing the feelings raging around inside. He surveyed his team, now minus one, and became their leader once again.

"Tosh, monitor the CCTV, look for this temporal pattern on the sensors; I want to know as soon as they re-materialise. You might want to check previous records in case they've gone back in time: I'll give you the data on the known sightings so far. Gwen, check with the local police if they've had any calls about anything that could be related to the Doctor; anything at all, even if it's stolen bananas. Owen, I want a sample of that man's DNA found and compared to what we have on record for the Doctor; let's make sure it's really him and not some imposter. Go!"

The team scuttled off to their respective tasks, each trying not to doubt Jack's determination that they would be coming back.

Jack retreated to his office to find Martha's phone number.

Everyone was so absorbed in their task that they almost didn't notice the glowing blue light of the teleport. _Almost..._

"Holy shit!" Owen exclaimed as a figure started to become visible in the middle of the Hub. Less than a second later everyone was gathered round, guns drawn and ready.

The blue light faded to reveal a dark shape, crouched in a defensive position. It was wearing a hooded cloak, its face hidden by the low angle of the head and the body by the folds of material. Even with his experience Owen was unable to get any idea of what kind of shape the creature underneath might be, though he assumed that since it was wearing a cloak – and a very clichéd mysterious black one at that – that it was at least vaguely humanoid.

Jack, however, wasn't so sure: he'd known some pretty odd looking 'people' in his time who could make themselves appear humanoid through simple disguises such as this, (most noticeably the Gregoanian with no legs.) He was just pondering what limb to ask the creature to place on its head when matters where taken out of his hands.

Two pale human digits appeared from beneath the cloak, and slowly raised themselves in the standard 'I surrender'.

Instead of relief that the creature or human – if that's indeed what it was – meant them no harm, Jack only felt himself tense at the sight before him. The peaceful gesture had revealed a band of leather circulating the slight, yet muscled wrist: to be more precise it was relatively thick and wide, a rusty brown in colour and covered in buttons with a screen where a watch face would be. Despite the subtle differences in the design, Jack easily recognised it for what it was; a time agents' wrist strap.

He wasn't the only one to have noticed either. Gwen brought her gun back up from where she had started to let it drop, her lips tingling as she remembered her encounter with John Hart. Tosh moved unconsciously closer to Jack and Owen re-adjusted his grip and stance: neither of them wanted a repeat performance of last time either.

Jack's voice was gravelly when he spoke; remembering the news John had brought him of the Agency's downfall. Only seven left and they had the luck to meet another one. "Who are you?"

The individual laughed an unfamiliar laugh; a youthful, mirthful laugh, at the same time harsh and accusing. And then it spoke, in an all too familiar voice.

"Honestly sir, and here I thought you would know me anywhere. Well, I guess you don't have x-ray vision after all."

The man who was not a stranger calmly brushed the hood back from his forehead, spiking his short black hair up at the same time.

Tosh gasped.

Owen swore.

Gwen ogled.

Jack stared, desperately hoping and dreading that what he saw before him was real.

"Ianto?"

Ianto Jones smiled and swept his gaze over his former team mates and boss.

"Well, did you miss me?"

TBC

**Reviews and concrit are loved.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, firstly, a great big thank you to all my reviewers, I'm so glad you're all enjoying this and have taken the time to review.  
Secondly, there should be at least one update a week.  
Thirdly, I'm not sure if I've got the pace right, so forgive me if it's too slow/fast, and feel free to tell me. I hope you don't get too confused but everything will be revealed and hopefully made clear.  
Finally, unbeta'd, I do not own Torchwood.**

**Please enjoy :)**

Chapter Two**  
**

_Ianto Jones smiled and swept his gaze over his former team mates and boss._

_"Well, did you miss me?"_

The vision before him shocked Jack to the core: in front of him stood Ianto Jones, but not _his _Ianto Jones. The team stood dumbstruck as the creature asked if they had missed him. Jack made no effort to deny that he had, but gave no outward movement; after all, this couldn't be Ianto, _could it?_

"You can put the guns down you know," not-Ianto said. "I'm not armed." It (Jack refused to call it a he yet, let alone Ianto) paused a second before relenting. "Okay, so I am armed, but I promise I have no intention of hurting you."

"Hand them over." Jack's mind followed familiar protocols as Tosh went to get a tray. Owen, Gwen and himself keeping their weapons trained firmly on the figure.

"Oh come on Ji-Jack." It stumbled around his name, and Jack watched as it berated itself, almost as if it had been expecting the slip and trying to avoid it. Jack stowed the information away for later; you never knew what might prove useful. He set his jaw and watched it sigh. "Alright, but I want them back later."

Jack neither accepted nor denied the request, choosing instead to watch as it stripped itself of weaponry. The cloak was shrugged off and folded neatly onto the tray; obviously it couldn't be bothered to turn out the pockets: underneath were a pair of tight, black, lycra-like trousers, a white vest (showing more muscle than Ianto had had this morning), a small open black waistcoat and a pocketed belt. It also had a pin-sized diamond earring in its left lobe.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Owen, turning to Jack. "And here I was thinking that period military outfits were a fetish amongst you lot."

The clothes were so different from Ianto's that Jack couldn't help but look surprised. This intruder obviously hadn't researched his dress well, but the form fitting outfit did finally convince Jack that their visitor was male.

The man must have noticed his expression as he looked down at himself and then back at Jack, a cheeky smile on his face. "Not what you're used to, I know, but so much easier to get off than suits." Jack saw Owen roll his eyes at the innuendo, but couldn't resist a slight smirk himself.

Next were the shoes – small black boots really – concealing within them two short blades. Jack couldn't help but remember that Ianto always took his shoes off first after his jacket, slowly working his way upwards from there. True to form the man ran his hands up the black leggings and pulled some mini flat bombs from previously hidden compartments. Jack opened his mouth to warn Tosh as she reached out to take them but was beaten to it.

"I wouldn't if I were you." The man advised as he placed the devices in a small box he had produced from nowhere. "These are touch activated explosives; if anyone but me comes into contact with them they detonate." He carefully positioned the box on the tray as Tosh tried to contain a gulp.

"Umm..." She turned to Jack for help, biting her lip. He nodded his agreement and she twisted back, apparently satisfied.

In the meantime a laser pen, retractable fire-arm and something that looked suspiciously like a sonic screwdriver had all been pulled from various places along with a 51st century Swiss army knife from somewhere that put a horrified look on Gwen and Owen's faces.

The belt was taken off completely, the pouches obviously filled with all manner of instruments (i.e. weapons), and another couple of knives were produced from underneath the vest and waistcoat, along with a fold-up flat pistol – 21st century design. He smiled as he added it to the collection, amused by Tosh's wondrous expression. "It's designed to be practically undetectable without a full strip search." He paused then added. "Which makes it practically useless." Owen snorted.

Jack watched as the man cast a sad glance at his wrist-strap and then an imploring one at him. As much as Jack knew how attached an agent got to their strap – take himself for example – it was a dangerous object to let him keep. So he shook his head and the man reluctantly took it off and placed it reverently on the tray.

Finally the earring was removed, and Jack was for some reason glad to see that it was magnetic – yes, they still had magnetic earrings in the 51st century; though they were much better at staying on and blowing things up. The man put the two separate halves down on the tray whilst warning Tosh, 'not to let them touch or we all die'.

When the de-arming was finally finished Jack gestured for Gwen and Owen to put down their guns and everyone proceeded to the autopsy bay.

TWTWTWTW

Blood, mind and coffee tests had confirmed that he was Ianto Jones, (at least as far as those tests could), but he wasn't the same man, Jack could tell at least that. His team seemed to be accepting this as Ianto but Jack wasn't convinced. It wasn't only his dress sense that was different, but a lot of other things too. He was older for a start: this man was at least 30, though Jack knew that it was easy to look younger if you knew how. Not-Ianto laughed a lot more too, made more jokes – sometimes in Ianto's deadpan humour, sometimes not, some laden with innuendo – and he had more muscles as the thin vest showed. The smiles he gave were often smirks or cheeky grins, some at odd times as if remembering other times someplace else. His eyes were different; Ianto's eyes had been as guarded as his expression, but there were always moments Jack could see through them, see how much pain lay beneath the surface. But not-Ianto seemed to open and close off his eyes like they were attached to a switch; he had complete control over what he showed others. The only moment he seemed to have lost that control was when he had made coffee, his eyes filled with pain as he glanced over the five mugs. These eyes had seen a lot more. And there was the way he addressed them all. Jack had first noticed this when he had stumbled over his name: it would have been taken for a stutter if not for the confidence he had expressed in its utterance with the slight difference of tone. As it was, Jack saw that this man wasn't the sort to stutter, but also not to make mistakes with peoples' names. He spoke to Gwen more cheerfully than before, and seemed to seek her out from among them every so often to ask questions about Rhys and her life. Gwen was more than happy to natter on for hours about topics like that, (something which had annoyed Ianto no end) but Jack always noticed a disappointed look flicker across not-Ianto's face when somebody changed the direction of the conversation. He was a lot nicer to Owen when speaking to him directly, but was more than happy to poke fun at him and engage in the strange banter Jack had noticed developing between the doctor and their Archivist recently. Tosh on the other hand, was handled with care, almost as if she was a precious doll that could break at any moment. Not-Ianto smiled at her a lot; made sure to accidentally brush her hand as she walked past and listened to what she had to say with rapture, even if she was talking about lunch. These movements were carefully disguised and it was only because Jack had been trained to look for them that he noticed at all: the others were perfectly oblivious.

But there were also the similarities between the two young men that Jack loathed to notice. Apart from the way he undressed there was the way he walked – straight up as if he was wearing a ruler - with measured steps across the room. The way he spoke was the same; his tone and phrases identical but spoken more often and with greater emotion than Ianto, and his accent was less pronounced as if he had spent a while away from his country and people. He addressed Jack by both his name and sir; Jack more often than sir now, but the sirs still sounding sexy. The way he gave his half-smiles (the ones' that weren't really smiles but one day could be) was the same and so was how he straightened his already straight clothing far too frequently. The smartness was there too; the attention to details and the keen mind all exactly the same: Jack was beginning to admit that there were some similarities (apart from the physical) which were too realistic to deny, but he wasn't giving in yet.

Jack stood firmly opposite the man who was sitting on the autopsy table; his team were off _somewhere_; probably not doing their jobs. Not-Ianto was regarding him with a firm eye; he knew Jack wanted answers but was waiting to be asked. Daringly, the young time traveller smiled: Jack snapped, finally releasing the question that had been festering on his tongue.

"Who are you?"

TBC

**Reviews and concrit are loved.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all who are reading, alerting and favouriting, and a big thanks to you wondeful reviewers :)**

**I don't own Torchwood, unbeta'd. Reviews and concrit loved. Please enjoy. I hope the perspective and time/place jumping aren't too confusing.  
**

Chapter 3**  
**

Owen didn't know what to think. All this fuss about whether Ianto was actually Ianto or not had given him a headache; although that could have been from that little binge he'd had last night. In either case, he wasn't going to try and wrap his head around what was going on until the answer was handed to him on a platter.

He caught a sudden movement in the corner of his eye; he turned to see what it was, automatically going for his gun. It was just Ianto, who had assumed some weird kind of salute. Jack waved him away, indicating that all was fine. Owen grunted and pottered off.

Having nothing better to do now that Jack didn't need those tests, he wondered over to where Gwen and Tosh were sitting. They were talking about Ianto. _Damn._ So much for not thinking about it...

"But he's older!" Gwen was protesting.

"You saw his wrist strap, and he was taken by the doctor; he's been travelling through time! It may have only been a few minutes for us, but Ianto could have been gone for years!"

"Why didn't he come back sooner then, if he could travel in time?"

"Why would he?" Owen butted in. Tosh jumped: she hadn't heard him creeping up behind him. Owen laughed silently. "After all," he continued, "If I was given a time machine and the universe to explore, the last thing I'd do is come back to this old place. Even more so if I was Ianto."

"What?" that was Gwen.

"Why not?" and Tosh.

"Well...he hasn't exactly got a load of good memories from around here, has he?"

"What about Jack?" Tosh again; Gwen suddenly went over to the autopsy bay, distracted by something. Owen leaned on Tosh's desk, using only his knuckles as support.

"Good example."

Tosh just stared; Owen attempted to explain. "Jack: threatened to shoot him and tried to make him kill his girlfriend; Jack: killed said girlfriend; Jack: recently went swanning about the universe with that Doctor he's so obsessed by after snoggin' him. Same Doctor takes Ianto for a ride. Ianto stays away for 5 odd years; I say it's payback. The tea boy's finally snapped!"

He laughed as Tosh looked on, wide-eyed. Suddenly his attention was diverted to the autopsy bay where Jack and Ianto were, with Gwen looking down at them. She seemed confused. Owen quickly made his way over - Tosh following – just in time to hear the end of a very odd conversation.

TWTWTWTW

"_Who are you?"_

Not-Ianto sprung up from the table in one swift movement and Jack caught Owen start to go for his gun. He quickly waved the 'all-clear' and studied the man before him.

He had assumed the standard Time Agent salute: legs shoulder width apart, two fingers of the right hand pointing upwards beside the head, palm inwards, elbow brought in towards the chest. (It was only now Jack appreciated the irony of their 'two-fingered salute.') He stood up straighter – if that was at all possible. His face was set, no emotions filtering through anywhere.

"Agent Jones sir."

The answer pulled Jack out of his inspection and back to the present, past or future depending on which way you looked at it. He gestured 'at ease' and watched as the man put his hands behind his back, otherwise remaining attentive.

"So, Jones..." Jack remembered the tradition of addressing agents by their chosen second name. "Do I know you?" He wasn't asking about the man, he was asking about the agent.

"Yes sir." Jones gave a small grin.

Jack was slightly taken aback at that; he couldn't remember Jones, and John Hart had informed him of the Agencies' end, which meant that to have met Jones...

Jack's mind was saved from having to make the connection itself by Jones' voice interrupting.

"You don't remember me." His tone was melancholy, maybe even remorseful. "And I can't tell you why Jack, so don't ask."

Jack sighed and nodded. Another question immediately barged through the crowd in his brain and exploded out of his mouth.

"Where's Ianto?"

Jack hadn't noticed Gwen come to lean on the railings above them as he spoke to Jones; he looked up, startled when she spoke.

"What do you mean Jack? That is Ianto."

"No Gwen," Jack was once again startled to find it wasn't his voice stating the facts. He looked over at Jones who was looking straight at him. The man continued his explanation. "I'm not _your_ Ianto. Not anymore."

Jack caught the hidden meaning behind the words: he'd always known he didn't _own_ Ianto, but every so often maybe he'd forget.

Gwen was looking down at them both, completely confused. Jones kept going; Jack admired his perseverance.

"I haven't just been nabbed by the Doc Gwen," Jack couldn't help his surprise at the way Jones addressed the Doctor – he didn't like people calling him Doc, and Ianto was nothing if not polite and respectful. From what Jack had seen so far, that hadn't changed; which led to the question just how well did Jones know the Time Lord? Instead of asking, he once again filed the information into the overcrowded box marked 'later'.

Jones was still talking, and Jack made an effort to listen. "I'm not the Ianto of your timeline. I've lived, properly, already. Ianto's still out there, and you'll get him back, just not until I've done what I need to do." Jack was suddenly very attentive.

Sometime during the last 20 seconds Tosh and Owen had ambled over; Tosh leaning next to Gwen, Owen slumped over part of the staircase. Both of them also picked up their ears at the hint of the reason behind all of this.

Jones leant back against the autopsy table so he was better able to look up and still include Jack. Jack however, had other ideas. Before Jones could start speaking he clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Right folks," he barked out. "Briefing room, 10 minutes, bring whatever you found about the _Doc_." He caught Jones flinch at the use of the abbreviation. There were also guilty looks from the rest of his team as they realised they'd neglected their previous assignments. As they rushed off to hurriedly complete them, Jones turned to Jack.

"You needn't worry about Ian-"

Jack quickly cut him off. "Save it for the brief." He started to make his way up the stairs, and then turned back. "Oh, and referring to yourself in the third person is one of the signs of madness."

"But I'm not him anymore!" Jack chose to ignore the comment thrown at his departing back, even though he agreed.

TWTWTWTW

Ianto – no _Jones_, as he'd asked them to call him, was already in the briefing room when Tosh walked in. He smiled at her – a genuine smile – and patted the seat to his right, inviting her over.

Tosh couldn't help but smile in return; although this Ianto was rather different from what she was used to he was still polite - to a point, and she enjoyed his company – maybe even more so now he talked a bit more. She happily went over and sat next to him.

"You know Jack will be annoyed you've taken his chair, right?"

Jones nodded, "That's the point." Even though it was a bold statement, Tosh could hear how he was suppressing his natural instinct to apologize and move seats: there was even the hint of a blush on his face. There were some things that obviously couldn't be changed about Ianto, they were too much a part of him that even 'Time-agency training' – whatever that was – still hadn't made him let go of completely.

She hummed in reply before asking something that had been on her mind. "Do they still drink coffee?"

Jones looked confused. "Who?"

"The people; wherever you've been." The handsome brow was still furrowed so she tried to explain. "I mean, you've obviously kept in practice but you're not a servant, so I was just wandering..."

She broke off as Gwen walked in. The latter looked around innocently. "Oh, don't mind me, carry on with your nice little chat, I'll just be sitting over here." She took her seat on Ianto's other side and pretended to clean her nails whilst actually waiting for the conversation to resume; it had sounded interesting.

Tosh sighed and turned back to Jones. "Well, do they?"

Jones hummed as he swung his body round from where he had been facing Gwen. "Sometimes, well, not really. It's actually a sort of alcohol laced with caffeine that doesn't get you drunk. Pretty pointless I always think, but there you go. However, as I do a lot of..._travelling_ shall we say, I make sure I keep it up. Making someone a cuppa is a good way of gaining their trust, becoming friends even. "

Gwen had stopped pretending not to eavesdrop, instead looking straight at them. "Are you...talking about _coffee_?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep." Replied Jones as Tosh nodded. Gwen raised her eyebrows before dropping them again, refraining from commenting.

An awkward silence quickly descended.

"So..." asked Gwen as Owen walked in. "What actually is the Time Agency?"

Owen took the seat next to Tosh, making sure to stay away from their visitor. He looked up as Gwen spoke. "Yeah, Jack's never said. But looking at the lot of you we've seen so far..." he trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Jones sighed before answering. "It's complicated." Tosh raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "It was meant to be a sort of Universal Neighbourhood Watch: Agents would be recruited from a young age to stop 'evil' in different time zones, or to stop anyone from endangering the timelines and the fabric of reality. They'd always be put in situations where the outcome wasn't definite, or completely unknown. Other times they would just be sent to observe, maybe rescue valuables or find out what had happened to lost relatives. But of course there was corruption from the beginning. Anyone who has time travel technology is going to be bribed, and lots of people gave in. Nothing serious you see, nothing to pollute or upset the timeline; and so nothing was done about it. It grew, became part of the system: didn't overrule it or overtake it, it just _tainted_ it. And that's how it stayed. The Time Agency evolved into a company, using their technology for business. There are different parts, the biggest being Retrieval – Time Agents are sent to 'retrieve' whatever the Agency wants – as long as it doesn't endanger the universe. But they're given a pretty free reign, and most of them are on their way to being insane. No one on the outside knows; it's only when you're in that you find out, and by then you can't back out, because you're tainted too..." The little speech finished on a whisper, Owen having to strain his ears to hear what was said.

Everyone was silent, each team member trying not to think about the little crack at the end of the sentence.

"But that's life; my life anyway. And I like it." Jones finished in a cocky voice, to match the grin he had just put on.

Tosh was just trying to think of some way to break through the mask again when Jack walked in.

TWTWTWTW

9 minutes after he'd demanded the meeting, Jack waltzed into the briefing room to find everyone else already seated. Jones was sat at one end of the table – where Jack liked to sit – with a slightly cocky grin on his face. That was a serious difference between him and Ianto; Jones was cheeky, more outspoken and happy to annoy: it was the mark of a time agent through and through.

Tosh was sat at Jones' right, Gwen was on his left. Owen had seated himself next to Tosh; he (apart from Jack) seemed the most unnerved by their visitor; it was probably to do with Jones' confidence – he made himself noticed rather than slink into the background.

Jack walked over to lean against the wall facing Jones – he wasn't going to sit down if he wasn't at the head of the table, he was stubborn like that.

"I think it's time for an explanation." He fixed Jones with a glare. Annoyingly the younger man didn't seem bothered by it but did become more serious. _Slightly._

"Hmmm, yes, although..." he paused as if weighing something up, "although, you have to understand that I can't tell you details that relate to your future or my past. In your point of view I was just taken by the Tardis, from my point of view I've already come back and umm...then gone again. The Ianto you know is still on board the Tardis, having just been taken by the Doctor. Now I can't tell you what happened to me; just that I, err, changed - as you might have noticed - and now I'm working for the Time Agency."

'_You've travelled with the Doctor.'_ Jack said silently. Jones smiled quickly: it was all the confirmation Jack needed.

"Wait a minute," Owen interrupted the undetectable conversation. "I thought _that bastard_ told you the Time Agency was gone?"

"Not yet." Replied Jones, straight faced again after a torrent of some emotion had swept over him at the mention of John Hart. No one commented on it.

Owen and Gwen looked confused at Jones' reply: Tosh looked intrigued; Jack bored.

"'Timelines are like the veins on a leaf.'" Jones quoted. "'You can never tell where each one begins and ends; which one leads to which one; or whether they're just all one big vein.'"

"Huh?" that was Owen.

"Who said that?" asked Tosh.

"After your time." Growled Jack.

"I'm sorry," broke in Gwen. "I don't understand."

Jack was pretty sure Jones rolled his eyes before replying. "Imagine there are some bugs on a leaf: the veins that are in front of one bug may be behind another; what has happened to the Captain Hart you met, has not yet happened to me."

"Sounds like a load of bloody shit to me."

"Well it would to you Owen."

Owen openly stared at Jones' somewhat harsh reply. "And just what's tha-"

Jack banged his fist on the table. "We do not have time for this!"

Owen grumbled to himself and Jones rolled his eyes again – another Ianto-like action.

"Do we all now understand that time travel is messed up?" Jack demanded. There were lots of 'yep's and nods from all. "Right, then please continue."

Jones sighed and spread his hands in front of him on the table in a gesture that Jack noticed was rather reminiscent of somebody else. "Right, well...the Agency gave me an assignment in the 21st century to track down a missing 'item'. For obvious reasons I couldn't tell the Agency that I was born in the 20th century, so I had to take my own precautions to prevent a possible paradox, which required some...tricky navigation. I soon realised that my task would draw attention from Torchwood no matter what, even if the item didn't get picked up by you. And as I worked for Torchwood at the time I didn't think that would be the best idea..."

Jack nodded slowly, wondering why he didn't like where this was going.

"So I asked the Doctor..." (Jack noticed the nickname had vanished, Jones must have known he had given away too much, but the Time Lord's longer alias seemed unused to being pronounced by the once-Welsh lips.) "...to remove my younger self – your Ianto – from the timeline whilst I completed my mission."

Gwen gaped.

Owen swore.

Tosh bit her lip.

Jack stared at Jones for a moment.

Then he exploded.

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"I asked the Doctor to take Ianto away for a bit so we could avoid a potentially apocalyptic paradox."

Jack took a moment to get a better reign on his fury. "And he just let you?" He didn't do a particularly good job.

"Well..." Jones looked a bit uncomfortable. "He took some persuading. But I knew he would do it, because – and this is the best bit of all of this – he already had."

TBC

***evil laugh* I hope you're not too confused :D**

**Please tell me what you think.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much to Pernicia, bbmcowgirl, XxTypoMasterxX and Stormreaver01 for your reviews!**

**I think we all know by now that I don't own Torchwood, please enjoy.**

Chapter 4**  
**

"_Well..." Jones looked a bit uncomfortable. "He took some persuading. But I knew he would do it, because – and this is the best bit of all of this – he already had."_ He finished with a triumphant grin on his face, as if he'd just spoken a new gospel, and looked around.

If he'd been expecting awe and wonder he'd come to the wrong place. Blank faces greeted his looks and Owen secretly smiled, glad that he wasn't the only one completely lost.

Jones sighed and tried to explain; the tone he was using implied that they were idiots. "When I was working for Torchwood in 2008 I was abducted by the Doctor in order to prevent me meeting my older self. When I was given this assignment I asked the Doctor to remove my younger self because that's what happened to me."

Jack watched as, one by one, his team _kind of_ got it.

"Wait," Gwen looked confused. "You asked the Doctor to abduct you because it had already happened. But it only happened to you when you were younger because it had already happened to the older you who had asked the Doctor to remove you because it-"

"Yes Gwen." Jack cut her off before she confused everyone. "Don't think about it too much, your brain might explode."

Gwen stared into the distance in shock as Owen kneaded what was probably a rapidly forming headache.

Tosh looked up from her contemplation of the table. "Surely that's impossible?"

Jones smiled. "Apparently not. First rule of the Time Agency; the universe doesn't give a crap about logic, so don't ask it to."

"Really?" piped up Owen from where he had sunken into his chair. "I thought it was screw everything you can."

"Sorry Owen, that's rule number three."

Gwen focused once more upon Jones' face. "What's rule number two?"

"You don't want to know."

There was a sudden pause in the conversation, and Jack could feel the awkward silence sneaking up on them. "So..." he shattered it. "What's the mission?"

"Can I have my wrist strap back?"

"No. Now what's the mission?"

Jones pouted, rolled his eyes and sighed all at once. "It's an H."

Jack winced. "That bad huh?"

"Yep."

Gwen interjected. "I'm sorry; what?"

"It's a code system used for the type of threat when assigned to an officer. H is the standard for time-jumping, time-screwing, evil bastards." Jack explained. He turned to Jones. "Who is it?"

"Not so much 'who' as 'what'."

Jack was confused; to the best of his knowledge all time agents were generally regarded as people, and no non-sentient life form and few sentient ones had time travel technology.

"What?" he queried.

Owen joined in, muttering; "I thought to be an evil bastard you generally had to be a 'who'."

"Unfortunately not." Jones took a deep breath. "A little while ago the Agency was performing experiments on some Limen pets – they're about the size of a cat, look much like a tabby too, but with one eye and compartments in their stomachs, useful for carrying stuff. They were trying to adapt our time travel technology to transport only the Limen to stranded or in need agents without risking more personnel. Of course, a couple of dares and a nice bribe got the modified wrist strap added to a Carcasian."

Jack swore.

"What's so bad about a time travelling white guy?"

"Not a Caucasian Owen," replied Jack. "A Carcasian. They're about six foot on two legs, three foot on four; dull brown in colour with armour like a tortoise shell covering most of their body. They have sharp claws and fangs, and an extremely volatile temper; although they tend to sleep every five hours or so for just as long. Basically they're nasty, and did I mention they eat anything?"

"Anything?" asked Tosh; she'd obviously been hanging on every word and even seemed to be jotting down notes.

"Yep." Affirmed Jones. "We call this particular one Fred because he had a penchant for the Commander's shoes."

"Commander Fred?" asked Owen, wondering where the reference came from.

"Not anymore."

Jack winced, but didn't enlighten the others about what Jones meant. It was better they didn't know the slightly bizarre and mostly gruesome regulations of the Time Agency.

"Back on topic, I was sent back here as this is where Fred landed; I have to catch him and take him back with as few damages as possible."

"To what?" Tosh prodded. "Us or it?"

Jones coughed. "The timeline."

Tosh was still uncertain. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning, don't do anything dramatic." Jones fixed Jack with a potent stare.

"What?" the Captain responded innocently.

"So this Car-thingy..." Owen tried to clarify.

"Carcasian." Jones corrected.

"Whatever, this over grown turtle – which is probably angry and eats _anything_ – is wandering around the streets of Cardiff unless it's sleepy. I don't see what the big problem is."

Jack couldn't tell if Owen was being sarcastic or not; when the doctor tried he could be a real pain. "It eats people." He was pretty sure that was a safe answer.

"Ah," said Owen, getting up. "Why didn't you say so; I'll just go get the man-eating-turtle gun."

"Wait." Jack was glad when Gwen stopped whatever would have come next with her interruption. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Jones smirked: Jack didn't like the look of that smirk. "_I_," said Jones. "Am going to catch it and take it home. _You_ are going to clear the area and make sure nobody dies."

Jack had a problem with that: he wasn't the only one. "No way."

Jones blinked. "I wasn't giving you a choice Jack."

"And I wasn't giving _you_ one. You have no weapons, no technology and no means to accomplish what you need to do without our help."

"So give back what you took and I'll be on my way."

"I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"What?"

"What!"

Jones just stared as Jack turned to face his outraged team.

"No bloody way Jack are you two doing this alone!"

"Gwen..." Jack tried to placate the angry woman. He failed.

"Don't you dare try to sway me Jack! We are your _team_! We're meant to be a part of this; of Torchwood! You can't just fob us off whenever you feel like it!"

Jack bit his lip and took a deep breath: he hated it when Gwen was right. "Fine, you lot can come too."

"Hey!" disrupted Jones. "It's my mission; don't _I _get a say on what happens?"

"No."

Jones growled: Owen looked on in shock; he'd never expected to hear such a noise coming out of the tea-boy's throat.

"My team, my rules."

Jones snorted, his change of attitude abrupt; another mark of the agent. "Gwen's rules you mean." He muttered under his breath.

Jack chose not to take any notice of that comment; instead he got back to business. "Where is it?"

Jones' face took on a self-righteous appearance again. "Give me my stuff back."

"Not gonna happen."

"Then we wait until it gets hungry."

Gwen's eyes widened, and suddenly she wasn't so sure that this _was_ Ianto Jones sitting with them.

In contrast, Jack narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I would. You can't find it without me, I can't find it without my stuff, and you have my stuff."

"Not the weapons."

"I'm not going unarmed."

"You can borrow a gun."

"I'm not going unarmed: you really think a 21st century firearm is going to be at all effective against a Carcasian? You've gotten dumber with age Jack."

The Captain's disgust was written clearly across his face. Jones' was a blank mask. Owen, Gwen and Tosh had all pushed their chairs as far away from the quarrelling duo as possible.

"And you've forgotten how things work around here."

"As far as I remember you don't send your teams to the slaughter: that's what you'll be doing. I want my stuff and my weapons; I'll even let you borrow some so you're not responsible for their deaths." He waved at Jack's three frightened team members to emphasize his point.

Jack didn't answer for a minute.

"If _anyone _gets hurt, I'm holding you personally responsible." Although Jack didn't really see the justice in this, it made it feel less like he was giving in. He nodded to Tosh. "Give him back his stuff."

Tosh returned the nod and went off to do so: Gwen was vaguely shocked at how he had reacted and Owen was making a paper aeroplane out of something that was probably important.

Jack looked over at Jones, and found the younger man staring back at him.

"Jones, my office, now."

TBC

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**Thanks for reading.  
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	5. Chapter 5

**I know it's been more than a week since my last update, but I was away without the internet. So here's the next chapter, I don't own**.

**Thanks to Pernica, ohmyianto, AppleSauceTrauma, XxTypoMasterxX and janiemc lj lurker for the lovely reviews! Please enjoy :)**

Chapter 5**  
**

_"Jones, my office, now."_

Jones sighed and followed Jack out of the room, taking in the anxious glances from the others.

Jack never turned to make sure the Time Agent was following, but as soon as they reached his office he grabbed him and pinned him to the wall. It wasn't friendly, and it wasn't intimate as Jack scowled to the best of his ability. To his surprise Jones didn't make any remarks, only bit his lip in a seemingly nervous fashion.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?"

Jones didn't reply, just continued to meet his eyes as he was admonished. Jack lowered his voice, realizing that Gwen, Tosh and Owen could probably hear every word.

"Don't you dare, _ever_, undermine my authority in front of my team again. If they start questioning my orders _everything_ will go to shit! I need them to trust me, to do what I say without second guessing, because thinking takes _time_, time that may cost someone their _life_. So you better fall into line and stop this stupid game of yours!" He ended his rant practically hissing.

The other man was looking distinctly uncomfortable now, but still didn't speak. Jack groaned in exasperation and took a step back, releasing Jones to run a hand through his hair. The now freed captive stepped forward, regaining the ground between them that had just been lost.

"No." Jack stared, trying not to think about last time Ianto had said that same word in that same tone to one of his orders; or the fact that it had resulted in his own death at the hands of Abaddon. "I won't blindly follow your orders, not when I have my own – from _your_ superiors no less. _You_ need to listen to _me _Jack; because I know what's going on; what will and won't make a difference, and what we need to do to get _them," _he gestured vaguely in the direction of the briefing room, "out of this alive."

Suddenly Jack knew that this person, beyond any shadow of a doubt, wasn't Ianto. The tests might have said he was, he might have said he once was, but that was not Ianto speaking. His quiet, demure companion was long gone.

Jack started to protest, but was cut off by Jones. "I know what you're thinking Jack; but I'm not trying to be insubordinate. I'm sorry; I'm just doing what needs to be done. Now, if it's alright with you sir I'd like to get back."

His last few words served to calm Jack's temper a little. He nodded sharply, but then caught Jones' arm as he started to walk away. "I will listen to you, but you are still under my command."

Jones nodded and grinned cheekily. "Always sir."

* * *

When they arrived back they found the others huddled around the confiscated items and weapons, making sure not to touch them. Jack stood silently in the doorway for a couple of seconds, examining each person in turn.

Tosh was the closest, peering around each item, checking for markings or familiar circuitry. Owen looked grumpy – as usual, but seemed to have taken an interest in a number of the items, and was getting in Tosh's way. Gwen meanwhile stayed the furthest away; probably a good idea considering the amount of explosives Jack could count from his position.

Jones brushed past him and over to his stuff, letting Jack admire his behind – still as perfect as ever. The former Time Agent watched as the wrist strap was the first thing to be snatched up, right from beneath Owen's nose.

Owen and Tosh jumped back, and Gwen looked over to the doorway where Jack was still standing. She smiled; he smiled back.

"So, found anything you fancy?" He asked the two somewhat startled members of Torchwood Cardiff.

"Oi." Jones butted in before anyone could reply. "You are not giving away my stuff; you've got enough of your own already."

Jack almost laughed as Tosh sighed in relief, obviously glad his shouting hadn't affected her younger friend's spirit. Suddenly his eye was caught by another object that he had taken particular note of earlier, so he left the comfort of the doorway and scooped it up.

"What's this?" he asked Jones. Everyone looked at the strange metal rod in his hand.

Jones paled. "You know what it is."

"So it is a sonic screwdriver? I thought there was only one."

He received an eye roll in return. "Not _a_ sonic screwdriver, _the_ sonic screwdriver: there is only one."

Jack's mind boggled. "The Doctor lent you it?" he asked incredulously.

"Ummm…" Jones took a deep breath. "Not exactly."

Owen piped up unexpectedly. "So you _stole_ this doctor of yours' hand tool?"

Jack grinned at almost non-existent innuendo: Owen and Jones ignored him as the girls blushed.

"I prefer the term _borrowed_, as I do plan on returning it."

"Uh huh, I bet-"

Jack silenced Owen with a look. "Anyhow…now that that's all sorted out, maybe we could get back to business?"

"Of course." Replied Owen as Jones finished suiting up, leaving only a few devices on the table. Jack quickly made his way to his usual seat, unwilling to remain standing for much longer. Jones shook his head in exasperation and sat in Owen's previous seat with Tosh between him and Jack while Owen took the opposite chair next to Gwen.

"Are we sitting comfortably?" asked Jones with a smile. "Then let's begin."

TBC

**It's short, I know, but things should get moving now as long as my muse doesn't take another holiday.**

**Reviews and concrit are absolutely adored :D  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks again to all my readers, and a special thanks to everyone who's been reviewing!**

**And we have movement! Unbeta'd, disclaimed, enjoy :)**

**Oh, and I've made up some Geography, so don't try to work out where they are :D  
**

Jones fiddled with his wrist-strap and suddenly several images were projected on the room's interactive board. One looked like a map of Cardiff, another had the image of a Carcasian on it, the third seemed to be some live biological readouts from _something_. Jones tapped the map and it sprung out of the board, turning into a small 3D model and hovering just over the table.

Jack laughed as his team members all jumped back, and Jones gave a satisfied grin. When everyone was settled again Gwen waved a cautious hand through the image, which didn't so much as flicker.

Next Jones tapped the image of the Carcasian, and that too popped out of the screen to hover just above the map, showing it in all its' glory. Owen gave the creature a cursory once over, and decided it did actually look pretty mean.

"So," began Jones as the Carcasian suddenly shrunk and placed itself in the map, which consequently zoomed in on that area. "Here, is the creatures last known location, we-"

"Sorry," Tosh interrupted. "Last known?"

"Yeah, unfortunately for us the location software attached to the technology took a bit of a bump as it travelled, and as a result only broadcasts when it's stationary, which is when the creature sleeps every five hours or just before it's about to attack."

"Great," Owen felt the need to make his opinions known once more. "So we'll know if someone's about to die and I can get my scalpels ready."

"Thank you Owen."

"You're welcome Tosh."

"Right," Jones took control again, as it looked like Jack wasn't going to. "As I was saying the Carcasian's last known location is _here_," he tapped the map. "That was almost two hours ago when it woke up, and our job is to work out where it would have gone and then to stop it killing anyone. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Jack finally spoke up, Jones looked across at him expectantly; "How are we supposed to work out where it's gone?" His team nodded their agreement and Jones' face took on the most embarrassed expression it had so far.

"Well, I was sort of hoping that's what you might know..."

"Me? Why would-"

"_All_ of you, you know the city better than I currently do and-"

"Oh." Gwen's quiet statement brought everything else to a standstill. She looked up as she realised she was suddenly the centre of attention. She bit her lip and looked at Jones. "Is that where I think it is?"

Jones studied the map briefly before replying.

"Yes..." The word was long and drawn out, prompting for an explanation.

He got another question instead: "What sort of things is it attracted to?"

"Strong smells, smallish groups of people, relatively dark areas, it likes the sort of noise of an average street – background noise, as it can't stand silence..."

"There's a regular market on _this_ street," she tapped a road about three miles away from the Carcasian, and then another spot about a mile away from that. "And there's that dilapidated old shopping centre _here_ that still has a couple of popular shops in, even though all the skylights are misted up and the lights don't come on until six in the evening..."

"That seems like the kind of place Fred would like." Jones affirmed. "Although I am surprised no one's spotted him yet."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Owen stood up and everyone else quickly followed.

Jack snapped back into leadership mode. "Right, we'll all go in the SUV, it'll be about a ten minute drive to the market; from there we'll split into two teams that I'll decide once we're there. We'll scout out the area, track this thing down, catch it, bring it in and send it home." He glanced once at Jones, not adding _and get rid of you_. "Let's go!"

He bounced out of the room, grabbing his greatcoat from its hook, Tosh and Owen going to their respective areas to quickly pick up equipment. Gwen bundled together all the papers on the desk as Jones literally _pulled_ the map and other images back into his wrist-strap, and she couldn't help but wonder how Jack put up with their comparatively primitive technology, or how long it'd taken Ianto to become so familiar the 51st century equivilents. She looked up to find Jones' gaze locked on hers.

"Why the 'oh'?" he asked before she could leave.

"What?"Gwen could hear the cog door rolling open.

"When you spotted where the creature was, you said 'oh'. Why?"

Gwen took a deep breath and stared back into Jones' eyes, intending to tell him it was nothing. Instead she found herself lost in the concern radiating off from him; and she felt _safe_ – almost like how she felt around Jack most of the time.

"Just...just a friend of mine lives there is all. She's got a five year old daughter she takes shopping every Saturday."

Jones put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her and into her eyes – something she was pretty sure he never used to do. "We'll stop it Gwen, I promise. I won't let anyone else die because of me." Gwen nodded, believing him despite her best efforts, and decided not to enquire about the meaning behind his last words. "Now let's go before we end up pissing off Jack even more."

As it turned out they needn't have worried about working Jack up into a foul mood, as Owen had already taken care of that for them. Neither Gwen nor Ianto enquired as to what had happened, and nobody else deigned to break the stifling silence that settled in the SUV as they drove to the market, weapons tucked in easy reach. Jones had given Gwen, Owen and Tosh each one item from his armoury, along with careful instructions on how to use them. All three silently agreed not to even attempt using them.

The team also remained quiet on the fact that the fifteen minute journey – that Jack had predicted at ten – had only taken them seven minutes.

Jack was the first to speak once they exited the vehicle.

"Right, Tosh, you stay around this area, I want you monitoring the Carcasian's position; if it appears again, I want to know – especially if its five hours aren't up yet. Owen, Gwen, head on through to the market: check the streets parallel and leading up to it, that's where our beastie's most likely to be. Do a thorough sweep of the area, leave nowhere uncovered. Jones and I will take the shopping centre. Keep on comms the whole time; I do not want to be out of contact. If you find the creature, don't attack it; keep it in sight and call us – do _not_ engage it, or do anything stupid. Got that?" Jack glared at them, wiling his point across. Gwen and Owen shared a look, and then nodded. "Right, move out."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the gap between updates, but my computer decided to have a breakdown, and the muse ran away again.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews; I'm sorry if I didn't reply. Thanks also for reading/alerting/favouriting.**

**I don't own Torchwood, unbeta'd, enjoy.  
**

Chapter 7

As soon as they were around the corner Jones put his head on one side and turned to face Jack slightly while they walked. His eyes were completely guarded.

"Surely it would have been more beneficial to have the two of us split over the teams – that way we could deal with the Carcasian as soon as we encountered it, instead of maybe having to sprint our well-muscled legs off to rescue Gwen and Owen." Although it was a serious question, there was another grin perched on his face.

Jack had in fact been wondering the same thing. At Jones' comment he couldn't help but question the motives he wasn't sure of yet. He also couldn't help glancing down and appreciating – _dammit – _that Jones did indeed have very nice legs...

"Could it be that you wanted to keep me close? Needed to hear my gorgeous Welsh vowels? Wanted me all to yourse-"

Suddenly Jack found his hand around Jones' neck: he wasn't quite sure how it had happened, and from the look on Jones' face it was obvious that he didn't know either.

"Don't." Jack warned. Penitence – and possibly fear – flashed across Jones' face, and then Jack pulled away, and it was gone.

The rest of the walk to the shopping centre was...awkward to put it bluntly. Soon after the incident Jones had asked why they were walking, to which the Captain had sharply replied that as they didn't know where the Carcasian was yet, they couldn't risk going past it which they would likely do if they were running . Jack's bad mood had persisted and so he refused to answer any of Jones' conversation starters after that. They had also been attracting a lot of stares from the locals – it wasn't _quite_ everyday that two handsome men in_ slightly_ unconventional clothing walked down the street; and those who knew who Jack Harkness was – i.e. everybody – were gossiping.

After Jack had remained stonily silent for more than half the journey, Jones pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and made it buzz. There didn't appear to be any reason, method or purpose behind it, but it was still another several minutes before Jack snapped.

"Stop that!"

Jones looked innocently over. "Stop what?" Jack was reminded of another man once more.

"Whatever it is you're doing!" Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Can't you just scan for alien tech?"

"Huh? Well no; you should know, after all it was you..." Jones trailed off. "Oh." He shot a guilty look at Jack. "No; after a certain point all new important tech was fitted with shielding from most scans – too many thefts and such."

"Uh huh..." Jack stopped and fixed Jones with a stare, arms crossed across his chest. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Jones kept on walking, hopping out of the way for a lady with a pushchair. She smiled her thanks; he smiled back. "Ma'am."

Jack still hadn't started walking. Jones sighed and turned back, flipping the sonic screwdriver in the air.

"Y'know, for some reason I don't believe-"

A young man balled past him and crashed into Jones, knocking the startled agent straight off his feet and into the gutter.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" Jack ran over to Jones, who was just sat in the road with a frown on his face. Suddenly he started glancing around before frantically patting his pockets.

"SHIT!" Jack frowned as Jones looked up wide eyed. "Screwdriver!"

And then they were both sprinting down the road, chasing the thief.

TWTWTWTW

Gwen sighed and followed Owen around another corner. A strangely familiar pair of dustbins with smiley faces drawn on greeted her.

"We've been here before." She said, fed up.

"Yep." Owen span back around to face her, smiling nastily. "Either we've checked everywhere or we're lost."

"We're not lost."

"Great, then we're done! Let go get some ice-crea-"

Owen's suggestion was cut off by a deep growl; the frequency so low that it reverberated in their chests. They both froze.

After a couple of seconds Owen slowly reached a hand up to his ear-piece, but Tosh's flustered voice came through before he could call.

"_Owen? Gwen? It's stopped moving about five feet away from your position."_

"Crap. Gwen, call Jack. Tosh, can you tell exactly where?"

"_Five feet, to your...left."_

Owen glanced over at the bins; their smiling faces suddenly seemed a lot more sinister.

"Okay, thanks Tosh. Tell us when you lose it."

"_Will do._"

"Gwen?" He beckoned her over, away from the bins and back around the corner. "Jack coming?"

"Ummm..."

"Well?

TWTWTWTW

The two Time Agents – one past, one present – or something like that – were both running as fast as they could. Soon they were catching up; feet pounding on the pavement like angry elephants.

"Common theft? Lucky snatch?" Jack was starting to pant.

Jones wasn't. "No."

"So...what then?"

"Uncommon theft."

"Ha ha." They followed the miscreant around a corner, forcing Jones to leap over a table some inconsiderate person had left across half the alley they had just entered. The man they were chasing looked round, caught sight of them and put on an extra burst of speed. "Seriously, what?"

Jones was just about an answer when Gwen's panicked voice came over the comms.

"_Jack?"_

"What is it Gwen?" With one hand Jack grabbed another earpiece and tossed it to Jones.

"_We found it. Well, it found us, but Tosh found it too."_

"Shit."

Jones' choice of swear words was slightly more exotic in origin.

They were still running. "So..." Jones raised an eyebrow. Jack wandered how he still had the energy to do that.

"I need to get back; Gwen and Owen are going to need help." Despite his words, he kept running.

"And what about the screwdriver?"

"I'm still thinking about that one."

"I'll go."

"What?"

"I trust you to catch this guy – after all you're the one with the Torchwood credentials and therefore able to get away with anything. Do you trust me?"

Jack scrambled over a couple of chairs – obviously it was dump-your-office-on-the-street-day – and thought it over.

"No; but I trust you to do what's in your best interest, and currently that's rescue Gwen and Owen. Go. I'll get this guy." He wasn't entirely sure that this was the best decision, but it was one of the few avaliable - they couldn't let the sonic screwdriver fall into the wong hands, not to mention that the Doctor would probably renounce his peaceful ways and skin them both alive if they lost it. And Jones had once been Ianto - maybe still was deep down, and Ianto wouldn't let anything happen to the team; he hoped.

Jones didn't bother to reply, instead sprinting off along still remembered routes while demanding Gwen, Owen and the Carcasian's location from Tosh.

"Gwen?" Jack spoke into his earpiece. "Jones is on his way; I've got some business to take care of first."

TWTWTWTW

Owen stared. "WHAT?"

There was a movement by the bins.

"Jack's busy, so Jones is coming...and I'm pretty sure that bin just moved."

Owen paused. "Crap."

"Tosh?" Gwen flicked her Bluetooth.

"_Yes?"_

"Have you still got its position?"

"_Yep, still there. It hasn't moved for almost five minutes now."_

"So it could be asleep?" Owen butted in.

"_Well...the timer was at four hours and forty five minutes; so either the five hour mark was approximate, and you're very lucky, or you're very unlucky and about to become turtle food."_

Owen could just imagine the look on Tosh's face. But Gwen didn't give him time to think of a comeback and panic her further.

"Thank you Tosh; tell us if it moves."

Gwen and Owen looked at each other.

"What now?"

TWTWTWTW

As Jones was running one way, Jack was still running another, now steadily gaining on the thief. He had turned another few times during the pursuit, and Jack now had a basic picture of him.

He was young – about Ianto's age, or the age Ianto should have been at that moment, with floppy brown hair that was just long enough to be cute, but short enough not to be..._dorky_, with a long side fringe that probably got in his eyes. Jack couldn't make out his features from their current distance – about fifteen feet – but he could tell he was good looking. He was wearing a dark red hooded jumper (the hood blown off in the chase), three quarter length cut off jeans, and good running shoes, leading Jack to believe this had been planned.

The boy ran round another corner, and stumbled straight into another table. By the time he had recovered Jack had closed the distance between them enough to rugby tackle him to the ground.

A couple of grunts, some punches and scrambling saw Jack sitting on top of the kid who was still struggling. He quickly grabbed the boy's wrists and pinned them by his sides. The struggles ceased and Jack noticed something under one of his hands. Pulling up the sleeve, he uncovered something he was starting to tire of – another Time Agent's Vortex Manipulator.

"Oh come on!"

Bright, frightened green eyes stared up at him.

"Where is it?" Jack demanded.

"Where's what?" He had a gentle, lilting voice, but it sounded like he was trying to put on a street accent, on top of a Welsh one. He wasn't doing a great job.

"That device you took off my friend."

"He's your friend?" The boy raised an eyebrow in surprise and dropping the accent.

"I'm the one asking the questions. Where is it?"

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout." And the accent was back.

Jack groaned and started to search his pockets. He pulled the sonic screwdriver from the front of the jumper and waved it under the slightly upturned nose. "I wonder how this got here then."

The boy scowled. Jack's own wrist strap suddenly bleeped, alerting him that it had detected another Time Agent in the immediate vicinity. Jack slapped it and rolled his eyes – it had never been the same since that trip off of Satellite Five.

"So, who are you and what are you doing here?"

"My auntie's ill, I'm going to visit her at the hospital."

Jack hauled himself to his feet, keeping a firm grip on the youth and pulling him up with him. "Right, and what's your auntie doing in 21st century Cardiff?"

Another scowl was the only answer forthcoming.

"Alright, you're coming with me, keep up." Jack pocketed the sonic screwdriver and set off at a run, flicking his earpiece on as he dragged the boy behind him.

"Gwen, how's it going?"

TWTWTWTW

Gwen was warily approaching the bins, gun in one hand. With the other she reached into her pocket and eyed the device Jones had given her, before carefully putting it back. She glanced at Owen; he had his gun out and pointing at the bins from her right. He grimaced back.

"You sure about this?"

"No, but there's no other way we're going to find out."

"I still don't like this."

"Objection noted Owen, now get moving."

Owen rolled his eyes and started to slink around towards the back of the bins whilst Gwen approached them from the front. Owen had just made it around the side when there was another rumble, and the bins went flying.

TBC!

***evil laugh***

**Next update will be as soon as I can manage.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Firstly - I am so sorry about the wait, but it can't be helped. Updates will now come at approx three week gaps, but there will be about three at a time to make up for it. This isn't by choice, I am sorry.  
**

**Thanks for the reviews**!

**You may have noticed the style has changed as I'm trying to get more POVs in: it'll probably change again though after the next few chapters, so don't get too used to it :)**

**I own nothing but the mistakes. Enjoy :)  
**

Chapter 8

Gwen blinked as she found herself bombarded by realisations. Number 1: Tosh was shouting in her ear through the comm. Number 2: she was on the floor. Number 3: The giant turtle they were hunting which was currently towering over Owen didn't actually look anything like a turtle; more like an armadillo. Number 4: Her gun was nowhere in sight. Number 5: There was a lovely red stain spreading across the front of her shirt rather rapidly...

And then she passed out.

TWTWTWTW

Jones heard Tosh's shouts over the comm, and then Owen's shriek of 'Gwen' from several blocks away. Realising he wouldn't get there in time otherwise, he hit a button on his Vortex Manipulator and immediately disintegrated-

-only to reappear fifty foot from Owen just in time to see the Carcasian rear up on its hind legs and swipe Gwen across the chest with its tail, sweeping her into a wall before she crumpled downwards. _In hindsight, he probably should have warned them about the tail..._

"Crap." He swore as the Carcasian moved towards Owen, who had gone for his gun. _So foolish. _For the millionth time since that morning Jones wished he'd got his teleport fixed _before_ he'd come on his mission – now he was just going to have to hope for the best. He slapped the button again and appeared right next to Owen, who still had the decency to look really shocked at his arrival.

"Get Gwen to safety." Jones faced the creature that was now rearing over them, reached for his pocket and pulled out a-

"Is that a _bite sized_ harpoon?" Owen didn't move as the mini harpoon unfolded to three times its original size, which still made it pretty small. "What will they think of next?"

"Go. Save. Gwen."

The creature roared, Owen fled, and Jones waited until the last possible moment to fire. He moved backwards to draw it away from where Owen was now crouched by Gwen, slowly drawing the creature with him. Suddenly his foot hit an uneven paving stone – evil councils would be the death of him – and he fell backwards, hitting the ground. The Carcasian loomed menacingly over him, brought its tail around and-

_WHAM!_

-stumbled back from the force of the harpoon imbedding itself in the soft part of its neck.

Jones hit the teleport again, praying that it would work: he really didn't want to be around when the oil containment in the tip of the harpoon drained out through the cracks impact had mad, exposing the tiny piece of francium to the air, resulting in a-

TWTWTWTW

Owen quickly ran over to where Gwen was laying slumped next to the wall. The Carky-whatsit had slashed her across the stomach, the power sending her flying backwards. Owen easily found a strong pulse, and set about assessing the damage before he moved her.

There was a nasty looking gash across her stomach that blood was seeping out of, but it looked mostly superficial. Some stitches, mega antibiotics and a couple of days rest would probably clear that up fine. He was more worried about where she'd hit her head on the wall.

He looked up to see Jones was leading the monster away, and took the opportunity to drag Gwen around the corner to relative safety.

When he looked over again Jones was on the floor, the harpoon sticking into Mr. Evil-Beastie's neck. It didn't seem to have much effect though, and Owen couldn't help but wonder what he'd hoped to achieve.

It looked to him as if the man had grossly miscalculated, as he was suddenly slapping at his wrist-band, looking as close to panicking as Owen had seen him.

Jones looked up at him and started wildly gesturing. Unfortunately Owen had never been one for sign language, so he just stared dumbly at him, vaguely wondering if the idiot was pointing out that he was in trouble, or that the sky was several shades darker than it was when they started this search.

And then the world exploded.

TWTWTWTW

Suddenly Tosh was shouting in the Captain's ear; most of it was just noise, fear, but he caught the words 'lost it', 'moving' and 'Gwen'.

"Gwen?" Jack asked again into her comm, speeding up. She hadn't replied to his request for an update yet, and that, coupled with Tosh's frantic screeching left him very worried. The kid behind him was slowing him down though, but he couldn't afford to let him go. He yanked the young man's arm in an attempt to get him to be more co-operative, and he reluctantly sped up to stop himself being pulled off his feet.

"Tosh?" Jack tried a different tactic. "What's going on?"

"_I don't know Jack. I've lost track of the Carcasian; it was right next to Gwen and Owen for a couple of minutes, then I lost it again."_

"CCTV?"

"_There is none."_

"I'm on my way now, keep a-"

A loud explosion ripped through the air, the noise ringing on and on in Jack's eardrums, stunning him into silence and bringing him into a halt. Some part of his mind registered that even though this would be the perfect opportunity for him to do so, the young Time Agent stayed put, looking anxiously up to where a plume of strange gas could be just seen above the houses. Most of Jack's mind however was concentrating on the fact that the plume, and the explosion had come from exactly the point that he was heading to, the place where his team currently was.

He moved his hand up to his Bluetooth, but before it got there Owen's voice exploded in his ear.

"_Shit!" _

That one word sent Jack's mind reeling: despite popular opinion – mainly Ianto's – Owen only swore when there was reason to. That and the explosion easily convinced him that things were spiralling out of control – although the explosion alone could have convinced him.

"Owen, what's going on? Is Gwen alright?"

"_Yeah, yeah she's fine; bumper her head. I'm good too, thanks for askin', but I can't see Jones."_

"Jones?" Jack hated to admit that the man hadn't crossed his mind; he hadn't thought the man would have got there yet. Green eyes snapped their attention over to him. "What happened? Where is he?"

"_I don't know Jack, but that thing exploded practically on top of him."_

"Shit." He couldn't help but echo Owen's earlier sentiment. "I'm on my way." He turned to see the kid – he really was a kid, younger than he'd first thought – looking worriedly at him. Playing a hunch he spoke to him. "Jones is in trouble."

A blur of movement and the boy was already halfway down the street, running much faster than he had before.

Jack was only several paces behind.

TBC

**I'm not great at science but I'm pretty sure Francium reacts quite explosively with air...if it doesn't, or the particulars aren't right, just pretend :D And I'm also not a Doctor.**

**There should be another update today, and one tomorrow if I can finish it.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the next chapter - I hope things aren't moving too slowly.**

Chapter 9

Sometimes Tosh hated her job. Not Torchwood as a whole – although sometimes she hated that too – but _her_ job; being the geek. She could stand the endless jibing from Owen, the way that to other organisations and people she was just 'the nerd', the way that so much was expected of her time and time again (she had once read a quote that summed that bit up: "_Accomplishing the impossible_ _means only the boss will add it to your regular duties." _ Doug Larson had been spot on there) and she could even overlook not being thanked. After all, Jack had rescued her and given her an almost endless supply of fascinating things to test, to stretch and satisfy her mind, so none of that mattered too much. What Tosh hated was being left behind.

_Monitoring the situation_ was what she was often left to do. The team so often relied on information that only she could provide, so it was normally her who did that job. _Keep an eye out_ from her relatively safe place and alert the others of any danger. _That _was the problem. Their job was dangerous, and one day would cost them their lives, so whenever they went out into the field and left her behind Tosh couldn't help but feel guilty. Because they didn't always come back unscathed. Whilst she was safe, away from the action and the dangerous aliens, they were out there risking their lives to keep the mostly oblivious people safe. _That _was what she hated.

But she'd perfected the art of patiently doing her job long ago; Tosh wasn't constantly glancing around, instead keeping both her eyes on her PDA, because she knew as well as the rest of the Torchwood Three team that one second could make all the difference. A fraction of a second could save a life.

So when the Carcasian suddenly appeared on Tosh's sensor; right next to Gwen and Owen's position, Tosh didn't hesitate to call it in. When Jack called demanding information about the situation Tosh already had all her answers planned out in her head, ready for use. And when she heard the explosion - sound waves travelling at about 343 metres per second, leaving her eardrums in want of a serious vacation – even before she'd heard Owen's confirmation of what had happened – the rules of the game had changed and Tosh was running.

TWTWTWTW

Tosh arrived at the scene to find what looked like the aftermath of a small earthquake. Her eyes quickly took in the pile of rubble that used to be a part of Cardiff: most of the road had been overturned, the larger slabs hidden by smaller debris; a water main had obviously burst as there was a new water fountain – if there had still been a drain it would have been overflowing. She involuntarily winced at the thought of the cleanup and even worse: the cover up. Luckily the people of Cardiff were used to localised earthquakes, and she'd already called the emergency services on her way to tell them that Torchwood was handling it – met as usual with groans and swearwords.

Strangely enough there was no sign of the Carcasian or Jack. Owen was crouched next to Gwen beside a brick wall a safe distance to her left, the latter still unconscious. She started to make her way over.

Suddenly Tosh remembered what Owen told Jack: her eyes widened in horror. Jones was nowhere to be seen either...

Owen looked up as she approached. "Is Gwen alright?" she asked. He nodded.

"You got here quick."

"I ran. Where's Jones?"

"I had a look – can't see him anywhere. If he didn't get out there's no way he's still alive."

Tosh heard the regret in his voice, mixed in with a portion of guilt, and felt her own pang of loss tumble its way through her heart. If Jones was dead, Ianto was dead – maybe not yet, maybe, like Jones had said they would still get him back, but he would die – and they would all know it. The only comfort she could take was that he'd lived – _or was that live? – _for at least another five years, during which time he'd meet the Doctor, become a Time Agent, travel in time, and become almost unrecognisable as the man they all knew and loved. Working for Torchwood, five years was impressive.

"It's not your fault Owen." The doctor just snorted and continued tending to Gwen.

Tosh walked nearer to the sorry looking debris, half-heartedly hoping to find a sign of life that Owen had missed, but it soon became obvious that that wasn't the case. If Jones was alive – which was unlikely – he was buried under half a road.

Pounding footsteps behind her and Tosh turned back to find two people sprinting out of a side street as if their lives depended on it. The first was Jack, who immediately doubled over, hands on his knees, looking the epitome of exhaustion – which for Jack meant that he'd run _very_ far, _very_ fast. The other man was several paces in front of Jack, looking decidedly less tired, and in fact kept running, looking anxiously at the pile of rubble decorating the area. Tosh couldn't get a good look at him but he seemed quite young.

"Who's that?" asked Owen to a very out of breath Jack.

"That," Jack gestured to the young man, "is my prisoner."

Owen looked at him, disbelief on his face. "You know for some reason I thought you had to be held captive to be a prisoner – you know, like _not_ free." He gestured to where the man was looking distinctly un-prisoner like, just in case they didn't get his point. "Strange that." He looked at Jack pointedly.

"Yes, well...he's a friend of Jones."

Tosh whipped her head around from where she'd been watching the man scouting frantically along the rubble just in time to see Owen do the same. There was no way she could have missed his snort of...whatever it was. Tosh herself was rather dubious.

"A Time Agent?" She asked. Jack nodded. "You trust him?"

"No." Jack flexed his wrist and Tosh saw the thing he'd called a sonic screwdriver in his hand: the one that Jones had 'borrowed' off the Doctor. "But he can help."

Tosh was about to ask how when there was a shout from the young Time Agent.

"IANTO?" He was half crouched to the left of a smaller rubble pile, keeping himself up with his hands on some of the rocks. At any other time Tosh was sure that Jack would have taken the opportunity to admire his behind and make some comment about it, but instead a flicker of confusion spread across his brow, deep enough that she could see it. It took her a few seconds to work out why that was, and when she did she shared a significant look with Owen.

The other Time Agent had called Jones 'Ianto'. When talking to Jones he'd insisted that she and the others called him 'Jones' and had seemed dead against being referred to by his first name. When she'd asked why he'd smiled and indulged her probing.

"_When on missions Agents generally go by false names, or names left...conveniently vacant – you know for example who Jack's name comes from." Tosh nodded grimly: she hadn't forgotten the Captain Jack Harkness she'd met in 1941. Jones continued. "We keep them for as long as they're needed and then discard them – although we keep a log," he tapped his wrist-strap, "in case we ever need them again."_

_He paused again to take a slug of coffee; a novelty Tosh knew he didn't get often anymore._

"_When you sign up for the Agency you leave your real name behind, along with everything else. You chose a new name to work with whilst you're at the Agency – something they can call you by: just one name when you join up, though you often end up with several others pretty quickly. Other Agents will use your original chosen surname to address you : you never give out your real name, it's too risky."_

All of which meant...Jack's expression had closed down completely.

Tosh bit her lip and started to move forward only to be held back by Jack, his eyes never leaving the young man who was by then typing hurriedly into his Vortex Manipulator. She looked over at Owen who shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Without warning a beam of blue light surrounded some of the rubble, and Gwen woke up with a gasp.

TBC

**Feedback is loved even more than cookies :P**


	10. Chapter 10

**Completely unbeta'd, but I thought you'd rather have a few mistakes than no chapter at all. So, here's the next part, and hopefully 3 more in 3 weeks.**

Chapter 10

The two simultaneous events divided the thoughts of the gathered onlookers.

Owen's attention was immediately drawn to Gwen and her ragged gasping for air. As she tried to struggle upwards he held her down, muttering not quite under his breath about ungrateful patients not listening to their doctors and undoing all their hard work. He'd wrapped a temporary bandage around her wound, and was confident that it would hold until they could get back to the Hub and he could stitch her up. At least, it would hold if she would stop poking at it and wriggling around...

Jack's eyes were divided between the two, flickering back and forth every so often. He recognised the technology Jones'...friend was using as a simple transportation device, rendering a substance several times less its actual weight. His attention darted over to Owen and the now still Gwen, long enough to make eye contact and flash them both a hopefully reassuring grin.

His first action though was to hold Tosh back as she stared openly at the youth's movements. Fascinated as she always had been by Jack's wrist band, she'd never actually seen it do very much, and its owner refused to part with it for longer than a few minutes at a time. So now she found herself almost transfixed by this display, endless possibilities whirling through her mind too fast to count.

As Tosh was the one paying the most attention to the young Time Agent – Jack had moved to help Owen get Gwen to her feet – she was the one who first saw what had been uncovered.

Now that the largest piece of rubble had been set off to the side, the smaller pieces underneath were exposed to the eye; as well as them, a limp and bloodied hand could just be seen poking out from between the rocks.

Tosh gasped.

"Jack!"

Jack looked over at her cry, but she wasn't looking at him. Following her line of sight his eyes widened as the saw the hand, the other Time Agent starting to frantically pull the smaller rocks away with his hands.

He quickly disentangled himself from Gwen, making sure she was at least decently supported on the other side. "Tosh; help Owen!" He hadn't even finished his sentence before rushing over to help with uncovering more of the pale body that was beginning to emerge.

The young man looked up once as he reached the pile, but for now at least his concern overrode his caution and he didn't try to stop the Captain as he joined in.

A leg was unburied, and then another and it soon became obvious that Jones was face down in the wreckage. Jack sped up his pace. Finally enough of him was free of debris for the two men to roll him over to better assess his injuries. _Too _pale skin making a stark contrast to blood red was all Jack had a chance to see.

Suddenly he was stumbling backwards, struggling to keep his footing, and the young Time Agent was brandishing what looked suspiciously like a bazooka, but in pistol form, pointing right at Jack's forehead.

Everyone's attention – even Gwen's, although rather groggily – was on the drama and Jack as he finally regained his balance. There was a gasp from behind him.

"Don't move." The young man's voice was threatening, but underlying the tone was a deep rooted fear.

Jack and Tosh's hands both stopped in their movement towards their weapons.

"Hands where I can see them!" The panic was more obvious now.

Tosh and Jack slowly raised their hands, Jack's only up to his chest. Both of Owens hands were busy supporting Gwen, who was wearing a deep frown and wondering just what her colleagues had managed to get themselves into: the man didn't seem to give them much notice though.

Someone was unwilling to leave it that way however.

"How the hell did you miss _that_ Harkness?"

Tosh shot a glare in Owen's direction, although she had to admit that he had a point. The weapon the man was pointing at Jack was several time a normal pistol and therefore rather bulky.

"Hey," Jack countered, his usual unconcerned self despite the _'that' _primed to blow a good sized hole in him. "I did feel him up!"

Gwen cringed, rightly so.

"Yeah; that might have been the problem. Little less groping next time, little more..." Owen trailed off, unable to come up with a word their Captain wouldn't be able to leer at. "...not-groping."

Gwen could imagine the look of indignation on Jack's face. Against her will she always enjoyed Jack and Owen's little banter session, but maybe now wasn't the best time to have one...

"Oi! I said hands where I can see them!" Seemed the man with the gun agreed with her.

Jack couldn't help the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face: one more second and he would have been able to reach his Webley. Reluctantly he raised his hands again; he could always try the other approach.

"I can help him." He started. The boy's eyes flickered to him. "I mean it; we can still save him, but you're going to have to put the gun down."

Jack looked over to where Ianto's body (because it was Ianto's, no matter how much he'd tried to tell himself otherwise – and the sight of it was enough to make his stomach churn) was now flopped on the floor, distinctively dead looking.

"He doesn't need your help."

If they couldn't get to him soon even Jack wouldn't be able to bring him back. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to anyway, but it had worked last time so he hoped it would work again. It _had_ to work again. Owen spoke out though before Jack could begin to think about things too much.

"Of course he needs our bloody help! He's bloody well dead! If we don't help him now he'll bloody well stay that way!"

"HE'S NOT DEAD!"

Everyone stared. Even to Gwen, who was still unable to stand unaided, it was obvious that the young man was slightly delusional: in fact all the Time Agents they'd met so far seemed to be.

The man snuck a glance behind at the motionless body behind him. Whatever it was he saw it made him pale further.

"Hands in the air – all of you." He motioned to Gwen and Owen to do so as well, which caused Owen to mutter about how you couldn't hold somebody up without any hands, but put his up anyway once making sure Gwen could still lean against him if needs be. "Now turn around."

Several confused looks were exchanged.

"Turn around or I _will_ shoot!"

Jack nodded to his team and they all complied – with even more muttering from Owen: turning around when supporting somebody handless isn't the easiest thing to do on a good day.

"Good." The Agent said when everyone had done as he asked. "Now don't move: move and you die."

"Yes sir," Jack mumbled, not loud enough to be overheard by anyone but Tosh, who shot him an exasperated look and rolled her eyes.

Everyone did as they were told for the next few minutes, although Owen had moved one of his hands down to Gwen's back as she'd started swaying.

"Jack!" he hissed as quietly as he could: they hadn't been told not to talk but nobody thought it would be wise to do so.

Jack looked over slowly. Owen swerved his eyes towards Gwen and then back to the Captain before off down another street, hoping he'd get the message. He needed to get Gwen back to the Hub, and soon.

Luckily Jack was well versed in unspoken conversations, and slowly nodded his understanding.

"On three." He mouthed first to Tosh and then to Owen, using the subtleties of body language to signal the former to follow his lead, and the latter to get Gwen to the SUV.

He curled one of his hands into a fist, and carefully positioned his body to shield it from the probably hawk-like gaze of the Time Agent behind him.

His thumb went up.

One.

His index finger went up.

Two.

The middle finger went up and Tosh and Jack span around, weapons quickly out of holsters and pointed at the man with the gun.

Three.

Jack frowned as Owen took advantage of the situation and started to lead Gwen away. The only problem with his brilliant plan of surprise the man with the gun was that the man with the gun didn't look at all surprised. In fact, he wasn't even looking at them.

Instead he was crouched down, back towards them, Ianto Jones' body draped across his knees, his head held up by the younger man's hands on his face. The gun was on the floor next to him.

"Come on Ianto, wake up." The whisper floated across the road. Jack and Tosh exchanged glances as the man tapped Ianto's cheek, as if trying to bring someone around from sleep.

"Jack..." Tosh began. "Is it possible he's alive? No one checked his pulse after all."

They started to move towards the pair, still cautious of any other weapons Jack's 'searching' hadn't detected.

"He was buried under half a road Tosh; no one could have survived-"

Ianto Jones opened his eyes.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for being patient. I know I said 3 chapters, but I only managed to get 2 written, and I combined them into 1 as they were both the same situation...sorry. But I do have the next 2 weeks free-ish, so I shall be posting again by the end of the week for sure.**

**Enjoy.  
**

Chapter 11

"That's...that's..." Jack stumbled to a halt as the not so dead man threw his arms around the boy leaning over him and pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"...not possible." The Captain finished. He turned to a wide-eyed Tosh beside him. "Go after Gwen and Owen, take the SUV and get back to the Hub. Tell them he's alive, nothing more."

Tosh looked at him questioningly.

"We don't know what's going on yet, but I'm going to find out."

Tosh nodded and went to leave, but then stopped as something occurred to her.

"You could have survived that."

"What?" Jack asked, confused.

Tosh nodded back to the scene of Cardiff's second localised earthquake in recent times, and then set off at a jog after her far ahead teammates.

The problem was his own thoughts had been dancing along the same lines, although he figured he was less likely to survive such an explosion than come back from it. Jack stared for a few more seconds, watching as the younger Agent started to help the other to his feet, keeping an arm around him for support. Needing to know what was going on Jack jogged over to meet them.

"Ianto?"

Blue-grey eyes locked onto his, and for a minute it really was Ianto Jones, _his_ Ianto Jones staring back at him; young, confused, emotions flitting across his face, eyes open and so full of pain. He was clutching an arm to his stomach, mostly hiding from view the large tear in his bloody white vest, and he had a few small scratches decorating the visible parts of his body. All in all, miraculously uninjured for someone in his position.

"Jack." He was breathing heavily and the word came out rather faint and rushed, but it was heard nonetheless. He pushed himself up off of the boy, trying to stand on his own, only to stumble forwards as his legs gave way.

Jack reacted first, lunging forwards and catching him around the waist before he fell. The man now enfolded in his arms let out a gasp, pushing backwards again. Jack latched onto his forearms before he could pull away completely, and looked into Ianto's eyes. They were shining with fear, and something that looked a lot like pain...

Jack looked down at his arms and shirt. They were covered in blood: not his blood though.

The once-white vest opposite him had flapped open along the tear now there was no longer an arm to keep them in place. Revealed underneath was one long gash stretching along the left side of the torso underneath, from the hip upwards as far as the clothing showed. Beneath the torn skin was bloody, and obviously very painful.

"You okay?" He knew it was a stupid question, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to ask.

Ianto straightened up and blinked, and suddenly it was Jones who was standing there, held in Jack's grip.

"I'll live. Besides, the ladies dig scars."

"Not that you'll scar..." Jack muttered, eyes locked onto the bright green of the boy's behind. The young man titled his head, making his fringe fall in front of his eyes to obscure Jack's view of his face, a telltale sign that he hadn't yet mastered his poker face, and that Jack was at least partially right.

Flicking his eyes back to Jones, Jack was almost taken aback at the contrast between the man now in front of him and the one who had been there mere seconds ago, and who obviously still was there. Maybe he was just buried under the surface, maybe deep down, maybe mere centimetres. Maybe Jones was a mask he was wearing to protect himself, maybe Ianto had been the mask and Jones was the real-

Jack decided not to let that train of thought continue, and let go of Jones' arms.

Jones stepped back and straightened his clothing: a completely futile gesture considering most of his apparel was torn, bloody and creased.

Now Jack had a full view of the man in front of him, he could see the extent of the damage done, and not-done to him.

He looked and acted completely rationally – for a Time Agent – and there was no sign of a head wound, so no concussion; slightly bizarre after having half a road fall on you. Although it was also slightly bizarre to be alive at all in that situation.

The only serious injury he could see (or not-see as Jones had draped his arms over his torso again) was the gash on his side, but there were several cuts and hints at bruises decorating the exposed skin.

Jack's first reaction to the fact that Jones wasn't dead had been to think that he was somehow like himself. As he knew the man had travelled with the Doctor, it meat that although it wasn't very likely, it was still nonetheless possible that the same thing later happened to Ianto as happened to him.

But now he was being presented with indisputable evidence that Jones wasn't like him at all. Although alive where he had previously been dead – despite popular opinion Jack wasn't dense – he was definitely injured and in pain, and Jack's body healed after every death, leaving him as he had been before. And surely the Doctor would know about another fixed point in time and space? Surely he wouldn't have allowed it to happen again?

Had the kid had some kind of healing device?

Had Jones _really_ been dead in the first place?

Jack blinked, bringing himself back to the present and realising he was still staring at Jones – not that that embarrassed him.

As if he'd been reading his thoughts, Jones gave a small grin and spoke, his serious tone at odds with the smile on his face. "We'll talk later."

His eyes flickered to the side, clearly indicating the other Agent behind. The message was clear: no talking in front of him. And thinking of 'him'...

"What your name then kid?"

The boy frowned, not as if annoyed at being referred to as 'kid', but more like in confusion. Jones spoke up for him.

"Jack, this is Marge Alec."

Marge Alec frowned again, and opened his mouth to speak, but once again Jones spoke for him.

"Alec, this is Jack Harkness."

"Captain." Jack put in.

Jones rolled his eyes. "_Captain_ Jack Harkness." He corrected.

Alec went to speak yet again but Jones half turned and shot him a look that seemed suspiciously like the one he had given Jack not a minute earlier.

A quick conversation without words with his friend, and Jones turned back to face Jack. Not wanting to make it seem like he cared, Jack refrained from asking what their relationship was, going instead for the most obvious question.

"Marge?"

The Time Agents shared another look, this one harder to analyse.

"Incident with some butter substitutes in the 1800s. Best not to go into detail – might cause the world to implode."

"Ah." He didn't enquire further.

Unexpectedly, Jones stumbled again, but this time caught himself before either Jack or Alec had a chance a react. Jack didn't miss the stab of pain in his face, even if it was there for only a second.

Obviously Alec hadn't missed it either, although being behind Jones Jack wasn't entirely sure how that was possible. However, it was, and the younger man's hand slipped slowly to Jones' and squeezed before retreating.

Jones shot him a small smile, before letting the mask fall in place once more.

But Jack didn't miss how he clutched his hand closer to his stomach, and he also didn't miss how his fingertips were coated in red. He was worried, but he knew Jones wouldn't want him to show it, wouldn't want his concern, especially not in front of Alec, who seemed to look up to him. So Jack kept quiet: he hoped he wouldn't regret it.

There was a pause in the conversation, where everyone suddenly realised that they had nothing left that all three of them could discuss, and that they'd really just been wasting time.

Jones turned to Alec before the silence became awkward.

"Whatever happened to stay on the ship?"

"I got bored – and it was a good thing I did."

Jones sighed, knowing when he was defeated. "Is there anything left of Fred?"

Alec shook his head. "Nope, 'cept some blood and guts."

"What about our tech?"

"Couldn't see none of that neither."

Jones nodded but frowned at the same time. "Watch your grammar and get back to the ship, do a full sweep of the area from above; make sure nothing gets left behind. This lot would probably find some way to kill each other with it, and obliterate the future."

Alec grinned.

"And make sure you don't uncloak – we don't want a repeat of last time."

The young man's face took on a decidedly sheepish appearance, and Jack wondered what exactly had happened 'last time'.

Then Alec stuck out his arm – the one with his Vortex Manipulator attached, and Jones punched something into it.

Suddenly Jack understood.

Honestly he should have realised earlier; all the signs were there: Alec was only a cadet, not a Time Agent, new to Retrieval, probably hadn't been with the Agency too long by the look of him. Recruits weren't allowed to use a lot of their equipment without the authorisation of a fully authorised Retrieval Agent. Jones wasn't his mission partner, his friend, his lover, ect...he was his _teacher_, his _babysitter_.

In the Agency they were often called Watchers, not everyone was one as most of the older Agents were too rude, mean or insane to look after anyone but themselves, and sometimes they couldn't even do that. There weren't often changes in Retrieval anyway, most veterans liked their jobs too much so the turnover rate was surprisingly low, and most recruits preferred to keep their sanity relatively intact thank you very much. So when there was a new batch of idiots in for processing, each was given a Watcher, who – quite literally – watched over them. It was a way of integrating them into the system, and letting them get to know how everything worked without risking blowing up the universe.

Alec was a new recruit – hence his inability to mask his feelings, or act much like a Time Agent at all: Jones was his Watcher.

The fact that Jones and Alec weren't involved brought Jack a strange feeling of relief, something he decided he wasn't going to think about, and would in fact just pretend it had never happened in the first place.

He watched as Alec disappeared in a flash of-

"Pink? You made his teleport pink?"

Jones gave a small shrug, and took a deep, rattling breath, which didn't go unnoticed by Jack.

"Hey – you okay?" Repetition of stupid questions doesn't make them any less stupid, or deserve any less than a stupid answer. Therefore it was of great surprise to Jack that that wasn't what he got.

"I could do with a bandage." Jones smiled weakly, and pulled a completely bloody hand away from the remains of his vest. "And a bath and a change of clothes wouldn't go amiss either – for both of us." He added, taking in the Captain's appearance as well as his own.

"Together?" Jack had long since learned that actually showing concern where Time Agents were involved wasn't usually the best policy: it was a much safer bet to stick to what they knew best.

Jones grinned, this one anything but weak, and definitely not innocent. "That depends, _Captain_, on how good you are, and how quickly we get back to the hub..."

Jack grinned back. "Well, we're going to have to use that anyway," he gestured to Jones' wrist strap, "because the rest of the team took the SUV."

Jones' face fell. In other circumstances Jack would've laughed at the comic value of such a move on Ianto's face, but he had a feeling it didn't bode well for him.

It didn't.

Jones blinked. "It doesn't work."

"What?"

"It doesn't work: that's why I was trapped under that lot in the first place; this thing's faulty and I couldn't get the teleport to get me out in time."

Judging from the flicker of amusement in the other man's face his own reaction was also comedy gold. They both looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then Jack's eyes widened and he was frantically searching through his pockets, as Jones looked on with his eyebrows raised.

Finally coming across what he was looking for in a trouser pocket, he pulled it out and presented it to Jones, whose face took on a more gleeful expression again.

"I knew it'd come in useful." He swiftly took the sonic screwdriver off Jack, twisted some part Jack had never realised twisted before, and made it light up and hum.

Whilst Jack himself had been quite good at using the thing (when the Doctor let him) on the Tardis, he could tell that Jones' skill with the instrument was top notch. Knowing Ianto as he did he shouldn't have been surprised: the man had always had a knack for getting things to work for him, and to work well – take the coffee machine for example; Ianto had been the only one who could use the thing, let alone make good coffee with it...

Jack suddenly realised he was referring to Ianto in the past tense. Although the man was technically standing in front of him, Jack only had Jones' word that he'd get _his_ Ianto back, and he still distrusted all Time Agents on principle – wisely so.

He looked up to see Jones looking at him, a small, knowing smirk on his face. For a second Jack wondered if he'd become telepathic, but soon dismissed the idea after projecting a few very obscene thoughts across and getting no visible reaction. Shame really: it could have been fun to freak out Owen.

Jones stuck his arm out to Jack, wiggling his fingers as he did so: the sonic screwdriver had disappeared again. Jack's mind brought up pictures of another man doing exactly the same thing, but he didn't comment.

"Fixed?" he asked instead.

Jones nodded and hit a button as Jack grabbed hold of his outstretched arm.

Space twisted and then they were-

"_HOLY SHIT!"_

On second thoughts maybe materialising in the middle of the Hub hadn't been the best of ideas.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry about the wait, couldn't quite get this right. I think I have a way to get passed the three week gaps, but if it doesn't work updates will once again be very irregular**.** Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and for sticking with this story!**

**Contains Jack/Jones, or Jack/Ianto.**

Chapter 12

Two guns were pointing straight at them; in between the weapons were balanced six eyes and a gap toothed gape.

"Whoa guys: it's just us. Yeesh, you would think you lot had never seen a teleport before!"

"What _have_ you been teaching them?" Jones piped up as he rolled his eyes. Jack grinned back at him.

By the looks of things the team had only just arrived; the fact that the cog door alarm was still wailing was a testament to that, and Gwen still looked rather disorientated.

"Fucking hell Jack – warn us next time. I don't think Jonesy'll beat death again if I _shoot_ him!"

Owen and Tosh both put their guns away and split up; Tosh going immediately to check the computers, Owen staying to lead Gwen to the autopsy bay. As he went by he stopped briefly in front the duo, looking piercingly at Jones.

"So how'd you do it?"

Jones blinked. "Do what?"

"Oh for-" Gwen interrupted his sentence by almost falling down the stairs: she'd continued onwards alone when Owen had stopped, but had sadly been mistaken about exactly what she was yet able to achieve on her own with what was probably a nasty concussion. "Hold it right there Miss." He glared at Jones. "After I've patched Gwen up and sent her home, I'm going to spend a long time poking you – and it'll be much more pleasant if you have a convincing story to tell me." Another glare and Owen sped off after Gwen, complaining bitterly out loud that when she got herself killed, he wouldn't be able to fix her_ then_.

Jack looked down at his hand and realised it was still wrapped around Jones'. He thought it strange that no one had mentioned it; well, he thought it strange that Owen hadn't mentioned it. Jones himself seemed occupied with staring into one of the walls (it looked like he was attempting to see through it), Gwen was still too out of it to notice – or so he assumed, and Tosh wouldn't say anything anyway. Owen however...well...the cranky man was in doctor mode...maybe that had distracted him. He wondered if he'd simply blackmail him with the CCTV footage, which he wouldn't put passed Tosh either...

Jack smiled and looked over at his techie, who was just wrapping up what she was doing on her computer.

"What've you got for me?"

"Rift's fluctuating a bit, but no spikes. Picked up a weevil on CCTV legging it back to the sewers wearing a hoodie. Doesn't look like anyone saw it."

"Interesting: the hoodies are new – put a note up for us to look into it later."

A few taps and Tosh looked over. "Done."

"Good work: go hit the showers."

Tosh nodded gratefully and went to do just that – all the running had really worn her out.

As soon as she'd turned the corner Jack felt his arm being tugged suddenly downwards and span around just in time to catch Jones as he collapsed. Jack couldn't help the look of pure surprise that embarked across his face.

"Easy there: I got you."

There was some groaning and half-hearted flailing, with several cursed muffled by the material of Jack's shirt which Jones' face was currently squished against.

"That's some very colourful language; some of those even _I_ didn't understand."

There was a snort, which sent some not-unpleasant shivers down Jack's chest, and he struggled to make out the next few words. "Really? I...you taught them...me..."

Jack froze for a second, wondering just how much of that he'd heard right. After a second it was filed into the overflowing 'Later' box in his mind, along with quite a lot of other information about Jones. Now, however, was not the time.

Hauling Jones to his feet and half-draping him across his shoulder, Jack called down to Owen. "I'm taking Jones to the other med bay: he's got a headache!"

Jack could hear Owen's snort from upstairs. "No groping Harkness!"

For once though nothing had been further from the Captain's mind – except maybe gherkins, which he tried not to think about much at all. He was more concerned with the semi-conscious Jones, the blood which he'd previously ignored decorating both of them, and the gash in the younger man's side. To be honest Jones' almost constant banter with him had made forget the injury, which had probably been the point. Jack cursed himself internally as he mostly dragged Jones into one of their spare rooms, outfitted with basic medical equipment, and planted him down on a bare metal bed.

He moved over to the other side of the room to ditch his greatcoat – he missed Ianto – and collect some supplies.

"I could have walked you know." Jones groaned as he flipped himself the right way up and sat up on the bed. He looked a lot better than he had a minute ago, and considering he was half-upright without help Jack figured he felt a lot better too. He was rather pale though.

"Could have fooled me." There was some grumbling from the bed as Jack collected a basic first aid kit from the shelf. "Take your shirt off."

A weak grin graced Jones' face. "Pardon?"

"Shirt. Off. Now."

"Steady on tiger. Moving a bit fast aren't we?"

Jack moved over and grabbed Jones' shirt. The man winced and drew backwards slightly. "Oi!"

Jack didn't bother to hide his frown. He'd just tried to rip the shirt off the injured party, an action which should have prompted some kind of lewd comment, innuendo or witty remark: never mind that Jones was a 51st century Time Agent now, but Ianto would have commented for sure, _should_ have commented. The fact that he hadn't was a cause for concern.

"Can I?" Jack gestured to the shirt again, this time opting for a different approach.

Jones set his jaw but nodded, and Jack clamped down another wave of concern. He started to pull the shirt over its occupants head, but the man inside hissed in pain. Jack stopped.

"Ouch."

"Yeah, I got that. Unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that."

Jones sighed. "Just cut it."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Cut the shirt off: it's ruined anyway."

"I hope you have a spare."

Jones gave a half-smile but no reply.

Jack procured some scissors and did as he was asked. He gently pulled the two halves away from Jones' body and-

"Okay, that's not what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that nice, painful, bloody gash that was there earlier!"

"That? That's still there." Jones looked down at his side and pointed. "See? It's a bit nicer and a lot less bloody, but still just as painful."

Jack stared at where he was pointing.

There was a long, thin line of scar tissue, stretching from his left hip to just under his arm – the exact same placing of the missing gash. Some of the surrounding skin was slightly pink, but apart from that the injury looked several weeks, if not months old.

"Is that normal?"

"It is now."

"You know, this seems like a perfect chance for that talk you promised me, so why don't you get started?" It was more a demand than a question, and Jones knew it.

"I can't tell you much Jack, but I'm not like you."

"Well I am unique." Despite his grin, Jack couldn't help the conflicting emotions coursing though his veins. On the one hand he was happy that Ianto wouldn't suffer the way he had – would, on the other he'd sort of selfishly hoped that he wouldn't be quite so alone anymore.

"But I'm not dislike you either."

Jack looked up from where he'd been studying the wound. "You came back from the dead."

"Don't tell Owen: he'd only insist on re-doing all those tests." He shuddered at the thought. "I tampered with the blood work the first time so it wouldn't show up: I wasn't planning on any of you finding out, and I figured there'd be too many questions-"

Jack had his Webley out and pointing at him. "You tampered with the tests."

"I had to."

"So how do I know you're really Ianto Jones?"

"Trust me?"

"No way."

"I _am_ Ianto Jones."

"I'm not so sure. And neither are you."

"I _was_ him."

"Who are you now?"

Jones didn't reply, but Jack put his gun down anyway. He was fairly sure that he was telling the truth, and even if he wasn't he didn't think himself to be in any danger. He turned his attention back to the scar, which seemed to have shrunk since last time he'd looked.

"Has that-?"

"Yep."

"You heal fast."

"Not as fast as you."

"No..." Jack slowly trailed his fingers along the scar with his right hand, the other coming up to hold Jones' opposite shoulder.

"It's rather tiring though, which I why I...collapsed..."

Jack didn't appear to be listening. Instead, when he got to the top of the scar his fingers turned around and walked themselves back down to Jones' hip, and then up again.

"Umm..."

Jack cut the younger man off with his left index finger, his right hand never stopping from tracing up and down the scar, mapping out its contours. He swore he could feel it shrinking under his fingertips. He felt, as well as heard the hitch in Jones' breathing, which brought a small grin to his lips.

His next sentence however, never made it past the preliminary stages, as another pair of lips were suddenly devouring his own, and most of Jack's thoughts were immediately forgotten.

Two legs wrapped around his waist, two hands grabbed his braces, pulling their torsos almost flush. The kiss was hungry, _needy_, and Jack was kissing back with just as much fervour, both his hands moving down to hold Jones' waist. It was strange, because although his mind knew that this was Jones, his body; all his senses were telling him that this was Ianto Jones, _his_ Ianto Jones – and maybe it still was.

They broke for air several minutes later, and Jack pulled back slightly in order to get his bearings. He opened his eyes to find another blue-grey pair staring back at him. They were open, amused and very recognisable.

"Ianto?"

Ianto smiled. "God I've missed you sir."

Before Jack could reply his mouth was occupied once more.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**So, genius plan didn't work out: I'll keep trying, but no promsies.**

**Just to make it clear, previously when I've been using Ianto's name it's in reference to Jones, when Ianto's characteristics break through to the surface.**

Chapter 13

Owen glared at Gwen for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes as she fidgeted on the table. Just like the last few times though she remained completely oblivious to his frustration, and moved her head again, trying to get more comfortable.

"Surely you're done by now?"

"I would be...if you stopped moving!"

Gwen winced as the needle pierced her flesh again. Whilst annoyed at her constant need to squirm and make his job as hard as possible, Owen was glad to see that she'd mostly regained all her senses again, except her sense of don't-annoy-Owen-ness, which she'd never had in the first place.

He pulled the needle through once more before completing his job. He'd already looked over her head, and deduced that there would be no lasting damage after the bump had gone down as long as she didn't do anything _too_ stupid. He wasn't counting on it.

Gwen slowly sat up and pulled her shirt down, careful to mind her stitches. "How's Jones?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Gwen blinked. "Oh right, I'm his doctor, except that I've been down here since he got back!"

Gwen frowned and got up off the table. "I was just asking."

Owen decided to momentarily take pity on the woman before him, even if she was driving him up the wall. "I'm sure he's fine. He's with Jack." Realising that that probably hadn't helped in the slightest he added, "I'm about to go check. Happy now?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, and then winced when her head protested.

"Go home; put an icepack on your head. You'll be fine." Gwen moved towards the stairs thankfully, but Owen added not-quite under his breath, "Maybe."

Gwen froze, and turned to face him again. "Maybe?"

"Well, if you get a green rash don't bother to call because it'll probably kill you before I get there." Gwen stared at him, eyes wide in horror. Owen shrugged. "Or you might get hit by a car on your way home, or maybe a nuclear bomb will land on you, or the sky might start falling and-"

"Very funny Owen."

"Funny? Me? Never."

Gwen gave a half-hearted glare before continuing on up the stairs. She waved goodbye to Tosh who had just appeared out of a doorway with wet hair. She couldn't see Jack or Jones though, so she simply headed for the cog door, hoping that Owen would bother to explain to them where she'd got to.

Owen meanwhile packed up his stuff before also climbing up the stairs to the main area. Tosh was sat by her computer once more, running some program or other. Owen knew it would be another couple of hours before she left, and even then Jack would probably have to order her out. For the time being he would be staying also: although work had technically finished for the day, he still had another patient to check over before he could go home (or more realistically to the nearest pub).

Tosh looked up as he passed and smiled, but Owen was too wrapped up on his own thoughts to notice. She bit back a sigh and got back on with her work.

TWTWTWTW

Owen trudged down another corridor, hoping that this time he'd got the right one. He let out a sigh of relief as he recognised the next door as the one he was looking for before opening it and-

Owen groaned. "I said no groping!"

Jack pulled back, resting his forehead on Jones'. Although he wasn't so sure who it was looking back at him, the shutters attached to the Agent's eyes were still open, and Jack could see a myriad of emotions pooling in them, desire and frustration among them. But his Ianto would have pulled back, jumped up at the intrusion and gone a nice shade of red. Jones didn't move, except to smile as they both gasped for air. Jack wondered if he was seeing the real man now, the man that Ianto had become. Not the Agent he pretended to be, but not the reserved Archivist anymore either. Somewhere in between. Jack silently marvelled at how he'd actually resisted the Time Agency's conditioning, but how long would it last?

"It's your own fault for having such bad timing." Jack retorted after he'd regained his breath and collected his thoughts.

"You knew I was coming."

"Exactly." Jack smirked; Owen glared and hoisted his medical bag onto the table besides the pair.

"Break it up you two: I've got lots of poking to do." The doctor smiled evilly as he held up a particularly menacing needle, and waved it around.

Jack got the hint and untangled himself from Jones, but didn't move far, just a few paces to be out of Owen's range.

Jones frowned. "You're not sticking that in me."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Well I say I am."

Jones snorted. "You're _not_ sticking that in me. You can look me over, check out my fine body, give me the all clear and I'll be on my way."

Owen ignored the comment advanced on the Agent, waving the needle some more. Jack looked on in amusement. Jones glared; eyes cold and calculating again, and not-so-subtly shifted his position to a more defensive one.

Owen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Think you can take me Jonesy?"

"Yep."

It was the shorter man's turn to snort. "Dream on boy." However he relaxed his posture and put the needle down. To be honest he wasn't entirely sure that Jones was wrong; the man had a lot more muscles now, which were staring him quite prominently in the face. If Owen had thought about it in that way, he would have to admit that Jones was fit, and that he would be considered hot by many – Jack was practically drooling a few paces away; it hadn't escaped the doctor's notice and was slightly off putting. "Well I'd ask you to take your shirt off but it looks like Jack's already taken care of that. Arms up."

"Jealous are we?" Jack piped up.

"You can take my trousers off if you want Owen."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Why, have you damaged something down there?"

"Ooh, feisty."

"The ladies love it. Arms down. Flex your fingers on your right hand."

Jack looked on, unable to contain a grin at Owen and Jones, as the doctor 'checked him out'. He decided he might as well do the same, not that he hadn't done enough already, but now Jones was shirtless, and earlier he'd been a bit busy looking for the wound, and then...well, it hadn't been that part of Jones' body that had captured his attention. Now however...

He was muscular, that much Jack had noticed earlier, thanks to the form-fitting clothing, but even that gave a distorted view. Yes, Jones was muscular in an obvious way, but it wasn't over the top, it wasn't overt: he had just enough muscle to be strong - "_damn sexy" _if you asked the Captain - but no more. He did have a six pack though, but it wasn't overly defined, just enough to look good. Jack hadn't noticed before, but he suddenly realised the main difference between Ianto and Jones. Jones had lost that almost child-like quality that Ianto had had, that sense of wonderful youthfulness that normally accompanied innocence (not that Ianto had been all that innocent, in bed or out). Although Ianto had acted grown up, and for the most part was, he was still young. Jones had grown up, maybe not in the sense of maturity (or maybe he had), but in his mind and his body, and that reflected clearly outwards. The muscles seemed to define that: that he wasn't reliant anymore, he was _independent_.

And Jack didn't like it.

"Hmm...how old is that? It's not from today." Owen's remark brought the older man out of his thoughts. At first he thought he was talking about the almost-healed scar that actually was from today, but a quick glance told him that wasn't the case; in fact that scar had completely disappeared. Instead his doctor was poking something equidistant between the Time Agent's neck and shoulder, high up on his back, and frowning curiously at it.

Jack moved over to stand behind Jones, and joined in with the frowning.

It _was_ a scar.

A small, perfectly vertical line, no more than a few inches tall or a centimetre wide, but it was definitely there, and it was definitely a scar. It seemed to shimmer slightly with golds, reds and other colours, but Owen didn't seem to notice.

"It's not new." Jones finally replied, sidestepping the doctor's actual question.

"It looks painful." Owen poked it again before walking around the table to inspect Jones' front.

"Yep." He wasn't being very forthcoming about the details. Jack took Owen's place, running a finger along the scar, and watching as the colours danced under his fingertips. It reminded him of Vortex Energy, which was probably what it was, lurking under Jones' skin, still trying to undo the damage that had been caused.

Jack leant down and whispered in Jones' ear, quiet enough so Owen couldn't hear. "I thought you didn't scar."

Jones turned his head slightly, so his lips were right next to Jack's, making the older man's tingle slightly in memory. "The circumstances were...unusual."

Jack raised an eyebrow, but before he could enquire further Jones' leg swung up from the knee, and they both turned to see Owen brandishing a small hammer, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Well, your reflexes are fine."

Jack glared. Owen ignored him.

"All in all you're in perfect health. Not a scratch save that scar. Now I watched that thing explode on top of you: you should be dead, fuck that, you _looked_ dead! So how did you bloody well manage that?"

Jack didn't move; he felt Jones's shoulders' tense beneath his hands.

Jones opened his mouth and-

[Insert Tardis noise here]

-jumped up from the table, still completely topless, with ripped trousers and scuffed boots, and raced up to the main hub, towards the noise.

Jack and Owen glanced at each other before following, guns drawn, just in time to see Jones draw to a halt next to Tosh and push her gun down, which had been aimed firmly at the centre of the room.

Jack and Owen both kept their guns in hand, not aimed, but ready.

The blue box flickered gradually into existence, and ground to a halt, five pair of eyes upon it.

The door was flung open, and a suited figure dashed out, straight into Jack's arms.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Turns out this chapter didn't turn up even though I published it two weeks ago...I think my computer's breaking...so sorry for the wait.**

**For those sensing an end, yes, there will be an end...the end of part one...and then we get parts 2 and 3. I will explain more at the end of part 1.**

**You don't need to know or like the song, just appreciate the relevence of those lines :D**

**Now we find out what's been happening to Ianto!**

Chapter 14

_Meanwhile, in the Tardis..._

The door banged behind him and suddenly Ianto's hand was free from the death grip the other man had it in as he danced across the room and started pulling levers and other things. Ianto stood there, frozen, staring at the inside of a Police Box he'd been told about time and time again. _'It's bigger on the inside.'_ That had been the phrase everyone had used back at Torchwood One, and even Jack had said it the few times he'd talked about such things. Ianto had always wanted to see it, to see if what they said was true. And now, as the man Ianto knew was 'the right kind of Doctor' flicked gizmos and bonked buttons with a mallet, he was being presented with the facts themselves about the impossible ship, but Ianto didn't care.

He turned and slammed on the door just as the grinding noise he'd heard mere minutes before filled the room. It didn't budge, but instead Ianto was thrown off his feet as the floor suddenly tilted violently to the left.

"Oof!"

"Hold on tight!" A voice called out as Ianto scowled and hauled himself upright. The ship was still lurching around, so he decided to take the advice and cling on to a handy railing for dear life.

"Open the door!"

He was ignored. Ianto's frown deepened.

"You have no right to do this!" He shouted in the vague direction of where he'd last seen the Doctor, who was now out of sight behind the central column, where the strange noise was issuing from. The thought entered Ianto's mind from somewhere that the centuries-old man was hiding.

"In fact I do!" The far too cheerful voice called again.

"OPEN THIS D-"

The horrible noise suddenly stopped, and Ianto broke off as his own voice started echoing loudly around the ship.

"It's open." A head appeared, a pair of black glasses balanced lopsided on its nose.

Ianto paused, before turning, and carefully pushed it open. He stared, open mouthed at the scene before him.

"Take me back." It was supposed to sound demanding, threatening, but the view had – temporarily at least – blown the fight out of him. Ianto supposed that was the point.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The voice came from beside him, and Ianto half-turned to find the surprisingly sad looking Doctor beside him, glasses gone, staring out the door as well. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Something to do with paradoxes, and my bad driving."

Ianto hummed, and turned his attention back to the calming view. "What is it?"

"It's the universe Mr. Jones." It wasn't much of an answer, but he supposed it didn't really matter.

"It's beautiful." And indeed it was. Vast expanses of colour, reds, golds, greens, blues and several Ianto couldn't name twisted across the dark background, intertwining and dancing with each other in their own silent masquerade ball. Ianto thought the silence only added to the beauty: he liked silence. Every so often among the cascade of hues a star could be seen; a steady, shining light amongst the chaos. Organised chaos.

The Doctor's answering hum brought him from his thoughts: he'd forgotten he'd actually said anything.

"Sometimes."

Ianto turned to face the strange man once more, to ask him what he meant, but stopped as he saw the pain in his eyes. It was the same pain he saw in the mirror on bad days; the pain he used to see every day after Canary Warf. It was the pain that Jack tried so desperately to disguise, the one that haunted Owen and Tosh, and would someday haunt Gwen.

_Loss._

Ianto knew the stories of the Doctor, knew exactly what he'd lost, even if he couldn't imagine how it felt. So he didn't ask what he meant, because he already knew. Sometimes the universe was beautiful, but at other times, or maybe even at the same times, it was downright ugly. _Cruel._

Ianto reached out and slowly closed the door, bringing both men back to the present. They turned towards each other, and Ianto suddenly realised they were actually quite close. If Jack had been there he would have been wolf whistling, and Ianto would have been blushing something awful. But Jack wasn't there, and strangely enough Ianto didn't feel embarrassed, even when the other man's eyes swiftly moved up and down his body, because his gaze was more concerned, _p__aternal_, than anything else. It was like he was making sure he was alright.

Suddenly the Doctor stuck his hand out, like he'd done back at the Hub. Ianto was wary, but figured there was nowhere else the strange man could drag him off to considering they were in a blue box in the middle of space, so he reached out and took the proffered limb. They didn't shake like they'd done before, in fact they didn't shake at all; the Doctor just held his hand and looked into his eyes, smiling broadly.

"Hello Mr. Jones, I'm the-"

"Doctor, yes, I know."

"Ah, well in that case Mr. Jones-"

"Ianto."

"Yan...toe. Yan-toe. Ianto. Yes. Nice to meet you Ianto." Ianto frowned, and wondered about the man's sanity. The Doctor carried on, oblivious to that thought, and the fact that they were still holding hands. "Well, we've already met, for me that is. You haven't met me, but I've met you. And now you have met me obviously, but you'll meet me again, and that's when I'll meet _you _for the first time. Well, I say _first_, but you'll introduce yourself over a computer to me, and that's the first time – for me at least; I thought it was for you as well but obviously not considering you haven't met me before and-"

Ianto stopped listening in case his brain exploded and a certain song suddenly popped into his mind. It wasn't something he'd ever listened to, but he'd overheard it, and now the small piece that he could remember was going round and round in his head.

_And I promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get.  
I just haven't met you yet._

Ianto decided then and ther that he didn't much like time travel.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter's will now be up as soon as I've written them, hopefully at least once a week. Please excuse any mistakes and OOCness.**

Chapter 15

"-toe? Ianto?"

He snapped back to the present as the Doctor leaned in closer, peering into his eyes as if to make sure there was still life behind them. Ianto immediately jumped back, freeing his hand in the process.

There was an awkward pause for a moment, but not silence. There was never silence on the Tardis: she was always whispering in the back of your mind, her song mixing with the hums of the machinery. However it was awkward nonetheless.

Ianto blinked.

"So...where would you like to go?"

Suddenly Ianto remembered exactly what had happened only a few minutes ago, and that for all intents and purposes the man standing opposite him had kidnapped him.

"Home." He'd meant to say the Hub, but it had come out as home, which made sense considering he spent more time in the hub than his actual house: the Hub had become his home.

The Doctor looked exasperated. "The whole of time and space at your fingertips and you want to go _home_? I will never understand you humans!"

"Take me home – now."

"That's the one place we can't go. There, and anywhere I've been before: the whole point of this was to prevent a paradox, not to cause more. Had my fill of them for several more lifetimes at least."

"I want to go back."

"Back? Sure, we can go back. When to? I'm thinking you'd like Victorian England myself-"

The Doctor prattled on, and Ianto let himself wonder for a second about actually taking the man up on his offer: he was in a time machine after all. The Victorians had always interested him, and he liked their coats; he wondered if Jack would like them too...

_Jack._

Jack would be upset, back in Cardiff. He doubted seeing the Doctor again would have brought back many happy memories, and Ianto could almost see his Captain's furious face as he realised what had happened. And when Jack got angry things always went badly. Either he'd upset one of the team – normally Gwen would try to comfort him and get snapped at for her efforts; or more likely he'd dash off to a rooftop or to round up some weevils. Ianto hoped Jack would be searching for him in fact; combing the world for his phone's GPS, and then kicking the table when he realised that it was no longer on earth...

He needed to get back to Jack, before he did something stupid.

Ianto looked up to find the Doctor was still rambling on. He ignored him, instead setting off towards the central column, and some promising looking buttons.

"-we don't even have to leave the Tardis! Plenty to do in here – oh the wardrobe; you'd love the wardrobe, that Captain of yours used to love it too you know..."

Ianto froze, halfway to the buttons. He interrupted the Doctor's seemingly endless rant. "He's not _my_ Captain."

The Doctor stared at him, wide eyed, and Ianto finally understood the expression 'like a deer in the headlights'. The Doctor's face currently epitomised the term.

"No...really? So you're not...?" There was no reply, which he took to mean as denial. "Ah...no no no no...I meant that he's your _Captain_, your leader; the leader of your team. He is, right?"

Ianto nodded slowly but made no other move. The Doctor soon filled the silence again by picking up his previous train of thought. The younger man wondered if he talked to himself.

"-but he used to love the wardrobe. Loved dressing up with Rose and..." The pain Ianto had glimpsed earlier was suddenly back; just briefly though, and tinged with something that looked like bittersweetness (an expression that Ianto had previously been sure didn't exist). But it was soon gone, and the rambling was back."Lots of black leather in there – we used to say he had a fetish-"

Ianto interrupted once more, something that seemed to be becoming a habit. He wondered if being able to cut him off was a requirement for travelling with the man. "What was he like before?"

"Who?"

"Jack."

This time it was the Doctor who froze. Ianto had almost given up hope of an answer when he spoke again. "Before...there are a lot of befores. Before he joined the Time Agency – I couldn't say. He would never speak about that." He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. Ianto bit back the strange urge to flatten it down again.

"Before I met him he was reckless, angry and impulsive." The Doctor continued. "He'd had two years of his memories stolen and was taking his frustration out on the universe, conning the Time Agency, always working for his own gain. But he had a way about him; despite all his worries he was...carefree..._young_. But even back then he was broken - something about the colour grey..."

Ianto took another step towards the console, the Doctor mirroring him, eye contact sporadic and swift. The older man kept breaking off to stare into space; Ianto wondered if he really realised that he was talking out loud. It sounded like this was something he'd thought about a lot thought, something he needed to get off his chest. Ianto knew better than most that sometimes you just needed someone to listen to you, someone to understand, and then all those thoughts would just align themselves of their own accord, as you'd been trying fruitlessly to do for the last however long. He often listened to Jack talking about things he didn't understand; about people he'd never met and never would. Most of it would just be half-formed sentences, and most of the time Ianto was sure Jack wasn't really in the room with him, but was actually living through his memories, his regrets. Ianto didn't mind.

The Doctor had the same look now as Jack did then. He was stood, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly back and forth, but his eyes weren't looking at any place in the room.

"Before we went to Satellite 5 and Jack..._changed_, he was...settling down. I think Rose and I grounded him somehow. He wasn't with us for all that long, but we were a family for that little while. Everything was perfect..."

The Doctor's eyes snapped up to Ianto's again, and the younger man staggered backwards under their intensity.

"Perfect never lasts."

Ianto swallowed. "No."

"And now...well, I think I should be asking you about what Jack's like now..."

The younger man was temporarily thrown. "Err..." Then he cast his mind back. "You have a strange ability to change the subject without actually doing so."

The Doctor looked blankly at him.

"You say things, strange things, and people want to talk about them. You make people change the subject because they just have to ask about it: you take control of the conversation and so push it in another direction to suit you. I thought your rambling was just because you don't like silence, but it's not, is it?"

The Doctor's face wasn't blank anymore; it was closed; a calm mask fixed above burning eyes. Ianto could tell this was dangerous territory: he could tell it had been a long time since anyone had talked to the Time Lord in this fashion, and he was sure that not many people dared. Most of them were probably insane: to incite the Doctor's anger was something very foolish indeed.

Ianto didn't care.

"It's because you don't like conversation. Any meaningful conversation is bound to bring up something you don't like. So you babble; change the direction of the talk - steer it away from the danger zones. You think it'll hurt too much."

Ianto paused for breath, wondering when he'd suddenly grown a spine and an apparent knack for annoying old and wise aliens. He normally didn't talk this much, finding that words, like a good weapon, were things to be used sparingly.

"You're wrong. Talking about it might not help, but avoiding it will just make it worse. And I think you know that Doctor, so the question is: why haven't you stopped running?"

There was a pause. The Doctor seemed to have deflated slightly, looking more sad than angry now, but the mask was still in place.

"Words of wisdom from Mr. Jones."

"Take me home." It had to have been at least the third time he'd said it. There was a distinct feeling of déjà vu in the air.

"And here I thought you were wise." The bitterness was well contained, but Ianto could hear it anyway. It just made him angry.

"So that's it? That's my life – gone?" He looked at the Doctor incredulously. Ianto's voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears, a sure-fire sign that he was getting emotional. "I won't accept that."

"Oh no, oh no...not..." Realisation dawned on the older man's face. "Nononono, you can go back, just not _yet_. This old girl," he gestured fondly around him, "is _always_ getting the timings wrong." The lights flickered. "Not that that's a bad thing," The Doctor hurriedly continued, "It makes my life much more..._exciting..._but in delicate situations like these, it could be the difference between...well, life and death really." He tugged on his shirt collar as if to alleviate the tension there, and maybe some of that in the room.

Ianto frowned and took another step towards the central column. The Doctor didn't notice, he was too busy glancing warily around him at his ship.

"So how do you know when to go back?" Ianto asked.

"Oh, yes, it's quite brilliant really; surprised I didn't think of it myself. He's got a homing beacon: when they're ready for us to come back he'll activate it, _et voila_! Tardis locks onto the signal and we get brought back right on time, paradoxes are avoided and the universe doesn't collapse!"

"Surely you can pick up the signal at any point in time though? So why can't we go back now?"

"Ah, no. Sensors are a bit off. Never got round to fixing them."

There was a pause and then:

"This man with the homing beacon; who is he?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He realised just after that the Doctor had done it again, redirecting the conversation by mentioning something he knew he'd pick up on. Ianto decided to play along for a minute if it would provide him with information though.

"Oh, ah, a friend. Got lots of friends me. Plato's always a laugh; I should go visit him again sometime..."

As the Doctor started off again, Ianto finally decided that enough was enough. He raised one eyebrow at the Time Lord before turning tail and covering the rest of the distance between himself and the console. A certain lever caught his eye: Ianto grabbed it, and _pulled_.

The ship made an encouraging sound in response, and he saw the Doctor react as if in slow motion, his face crumpling into pure shock, and something that looked suspiciously like panic.

"Nonono, what are you-"

But Ianto was off, dodging around the column, twisting knobs and spinning dials: he picked up a mallet as he went. The Doctor was only a second behind him, chasing him back and forth around the Tardis, but the younger man always managed to stay a few steps ahead of him, hitting all the right buttons and feeling as if he's been doing this his entire life. The controls just seemed to call to him, almost telling him what to do: it felt like instinct.

Suddenly Ianto stopped, his hand wavering over another lever. The Doctor careered to a halt a few paces away, hands out, pleading.

"Don't be silly Yan."

Even though the Doctor had been chasing him, now that he had stopped he seemed unwilling to use physical means to accomplish his task.

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, okay, Ianto. Just step away from the controls, and we'll talk this through."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, I'm sure there is. How about Lisa? Why don't we talk about her?"

Ianto froze.

"You used to get ice-cream together, didn't you? You'd always get the same flavour and she'd tease you about being unadventurous and dull and-"

"How'd you...?" Ianto swallowed roughly. "Stop it. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Distracting me."

"Who me? Nooo...not _me_..."

"You wanted to know what Jack's like now." He took a deep breath. "Why don't we just ask him?"

The Doctor lunged forward.

Ianto slammed his hand down.

They both landed in a heap on the floor.

[Insert Tardis noise here]

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**We are near the end of part one now, there may be only one more chapter, possibly two.**

**Mega thanks for all your support :) *hands out cookies*  
**

Chapter 16

Ianto was up first, scrambling up from the floor and tripping over one of the Doctor's sneakers, which had somehow detached itself from his foot.

He had just taken a step towards the door when the Doctor reached out a hand, wrapping it around his leg. Ianto stumbled, and spared a backwards glance at the other man as he yanked his leg free.

The Time Lord looked _frightened._

Ianto didn't care. He was going home, and no one could stop him.

He reached the Tardis doors seconds after the noise that had started this whole incident had ceased. He didn't stop to consider that they might be locked, instead barrelling straight through the thankfully unsecured exit and into the room outside.

The Doctor was shouting after him, something about how no one ever listened to him, and something else about the end of the world.

Ianto kept running, briefly taking in the fact that they were indeed in the Hub, before he collided with another solid body. Warm arms wrapped around him, enveloping him, making him feel safe.

He already knew whose arms were holding him close, but he looked up anyway, and smiled at those bright blue eyes.

"Jack." It had only been minutes since he had last seen him, but it felt like hours.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Glad to see me?"

"Yep."

Jack smiled at his response. "We missed you too."

Suddenly Ianto froze and pulled back. There was the distinct smell of coffee in the air: he hadn't made coffee in hours before he was taken – he had been torturing Owen. There was also another smell he'd noticed, that he'd previously dismissed. It clung to Jack's coat, and shimmered through the air: it smelled familiar, but also exotic. He stepped back further and looked around.

Jack was looking slightly furtive; his Webley in hand but his posture relatively relaxed. Next to him Owen was in much the same position, although tenser. He was eyeing Ianto warily.

Gwen was nowhere to be seen. Tosh wouldn't meet his gaze. And next to her...

His eyes landed on another pair of too familiar blues.

Ianto Jones stared.

Ianto Jones stared back.

TWTWTWTW

"Uh oh." The Doctor's voice floated into their ears from the Tardis doorway. One shoe in his hand, he did not look too happy. "This...is not good."

"There are two of me." Ianto stated. "That's not possible."

"Well actually it is, but that's beside the point. There aren't two of you; there's only one of you." The Doctor stepped out of the Tardis cautiously, as if expecting something to blow up – which in fact he was.

"Really? As there sure looks like two of 'em to me." Owen piped up, still confused as hell but not wanting to be left out.

"Nope, there is only one Ianto Jones." He took another pace forward. "There are just two..._shades_ of him here, at the same time."

Ianto glowered.

"I'm not a shade." Jones protested. Tosh scuttled away towards the other three, giving the Doctor and Jones some space.

The Doctor winced. "Bad choice of words, there isn't a good English equivalent yet. Anyway, my point is, this is very, very bad."

"Why?"

It was a simple question from Torchwood Three's own doctor, but it seemed to ignite a fire inside the other.

"Why? _Why?_ Because two aspects – two different versions of one person in the same time is bad enough normally, stick a crack in Time and Space into the mix and you have a recipe for disaster!" He waved his hands wildly as if to illustrate the effect. He then rounded on Ianto, who was now stood between Jack and Owen. "The fact that it's _you_ makes it so much worse!"

"Doctor-" Jones interrupted, or at least tried to.

"Don't _you_ start! If you leave now we can still try and preserve the Timeline-"

"Doctor-"

"We'll have to get rid of their memories," he waved at Jack's gathered team, who were all staring at the unfolding drama. His voice became more panicked as he went on. "And the one who went home, the one with the gap, if any of them remember they'll try and change the future and-"

"DOC!"

The Doctor stopped pacing directly in front of Jones, eyes wide and panicked.

"Calm down," Jones continued, "Everything is fine-"

"CALM DOWN? Everything is not fine! They'll change the Timeline and then I won't be able to-you will never exist, this will never happen and all that work will have been for absolutely nothing and the universe will implode and all because the timings weren't right!"

"THE TIMINGS WERE PERFECT!"

The Doctor staggered backwards. "What?" he whispered, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"The timings were perfect." Jones repeated calmly.

"But...but...but..._he-_" he pointed at Ianto, "-has to choose to become _you_, or else at the very least none of this will happen."

"I didn't exactly have much choice."

The Doctor's eyes widened further, as the gears stated clicking in his mind. "_No_."

"Yes. The universe if fine Doctor; everything will play out exactly as it's meant to."

"So you remember...?"

"Yes, I remember watching this conversation back when I worked for Torchwood Three, and I also remember being confused as hell."

The Doctor turned to the gathered group, remembering their presence for the first time in awhile. Those who weren't glaring were rubbing their rapidly forming headaches. Owen was doing both.

"Won't be a minute!" The Doctor called cheerfully over to them before turning back to Jones and wheeling him further away. He lowered his voice. "But what about the others?"

"They won't remember, none of them will, even I only remember after...well, you know." They both winced in memory. "Something happens soon; these memories get confused and then lost. Jack and I will both remember, but not in time to do anything. Your Timeline is safe Doctor, because all of this has already happened, and nothing any of them will do can change that."

Jones looked over the Doctor's shoulder to stare at the three people who were destined to die and one who should have died – so many times over.

The Doctor followed his gaze, his eyes filled with regret.

"We can't warn them, we can't change _anything_."

"I know."

"But that won't stop you dreaming."

"Never."

"Oi, you two! If you're done with your bloody heart-to-heart, come tell us what the bloody hell's going on!"

"I'm still not sure myself." The Doctor muttered, looking exasperatedly at Jones.

Jones grinned. "Don't keep the good doctor waiting."

One doctor rolled his eyes as the other kept on glaring, before the former winced at the not-so-friendly slap on his back courtesy of Jones, and then both doctors were glaring.

The smirking Time Agent sauntered over to the confused quartet as the Time Lord rolled his shoulders before following.

TBC

**If you're confused don't worry; everything should be explained in the next chapter if the characters would stop running off with my plot!  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, I meant to get this up a lot sooner but I got distracted, what with more fics and Christmas and all :P**

**Hope this clears things up, if not, feel free to ask.**

Chapter 17

Ianto stared as his double put his hands in his tattered pockets. He took a moment to appraise the other man, and promptly shivered at the state of his clothing. Jones caught him staring, and winked. Ianto swiftly took a step backwards, only to encounter the solid mass of Jack behind him. He looked up as the older man placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Confidence sufficiently boosted, Ianto straightened his clothing – which for once did need straightening considering his scuffle with the Doctor – and stared back at Jones.

"I'm fine sir." He muttered under his breath to Jack. Jack squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand and stepping to the head of the group, staring down the suited man and the semi-naked one opposite.

"What's with the shoe Doc?"

The Time Lord blinked: that hadn't exactly been the first question he'd anticipated. He looked down at the lone converse still in his grasp, and then at his socked foot. "Ah, yes, that." He ran a hand up the back of his head before making eye contact with Ianto. "Well..." he drew the word out far longer than he needed to. "It's got a mind of its own really, this shoe. Always doing its own thing, never mind what _I _say."

Ianto looked at him warily: the Doctor smiled back.

Tosh raised an eyebrow: Owen snorted.

"Find something funny Doctor Harper?"

Owen narrowed his eyes at this '_Doctor'_. He didn't look much like a doctor to him, and he was fairly sure the Hippocratic Oath didn't include kidnapping or Time Travel. But Owen knew better than to say some things out loud – despite what most people thought.

"Yeah; sentient shoes – that'll be the day."

Tosh poked him in the rubs.

"Ouch! What?"

"You've jinxed it now."

"Oh bollocks."

"Stranger things have happened." Ianto piped up, still glancing cautiously at the Doctor.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "At least it'll make a change from the death-bringing clothing articles we usually get."

Owen shuddered. "Don't remind me."

Jones smiled at the banter, remembering what it used to be like before-

His wrist strap beeped.

All eyes suddenly were on Jones.

"What?"

"Beeping is bad, no?"

"No." Jones looked up, brow furrowed.

"Yes." Jack put his hands on his hips. "Beeping is definitely bad." He gestured to his own Vortex Manipulator. "Last time this thing beeped...well...we all almost died. I actually did."

"You've got yours on the wrong setting. It's just Alec telling me to hurry up." There was a collective sigh of relief from the present members of Torchwood Three. "So Doc, enough with the distractions."

"Hey! It wasn't me this time!"

"Who is Alec?" Tosh asked.

"Kid from earlier with the floppy hair." Jack answered. Ianto looked at him questioningly. "Friend of yours in the future." Ianto blinked.

"_Distractions..."_ Jones whispered in the Doctor's ear.

"It's not me!"

Jones glared as their apparently interested audience continued with their own thing. The Doctor sighed and gave in, clapping his hands together loudly for attention.

It worked.

"So...explanations. We're on a tight schedule here so let's keep it brief shall I? Good, well, Jones here was just explaining that despite what I thought the universe is in no danger of collapse as everything that has happened is exactly what was meant to happen."

The Doctor grinned as if he'd just solved the timeless question of who stole the cookies from the cookie jar. No one else seemed very convinced. Jones rolled his eyes, glanced at the time and stepped in to help.

"As I've already said I asked the Doctor to kidnap Ianto here because it had already happened to me and consequently was the beginning of a very important phase in Time, and so if he didn't do it none of that would come to pass and stuff would get very sticky indeed considering that it already _has_ come to pass. What I previously neglected to mention was that when aboard the Tardis I got into a bit of a huff and refused to co-operate, hijacked the ship and drove it back here, stumbling into my older self who was on a mission to save humankind. Got it?"

"That's what I said, but more simply!"

"So everything that's happened was meant to happen and although the universe is not in danger your brains still are if you think about it too much."

Tosh was the first to speak. "That's...that's brilliant!"

"I know, isn't it?" the Doctor replied enthusiastically, but beneath his childish glee Jack thought he saw a haunted look; sad eyes.

Owen groaned. "That seems overly complicated."

"That's the way the universe works."

"So in the future I'm going to become you?" Ianto asked.

"Yep." Jones grinned. "Don't worry, you'll love it."

"Not if I'm dressed like that I won't."

"The Captain doesn't seem to mind much."

Jack snapped his head up from where he'd been admiring Jones' on display body once more to meet the man's overly amused eyes. Beside him he could see Ianto struggling between being annoyed and snickering. The Captain smiled at them both. "Hey, it's not my fault you look good enough to eat."

"Actually it is."

The smirk finally broke across Ianto's face. "You shouldn't be encouraging all those Weevil hunts sir."

Jack swallowed audibly. "Oh god no."

Owen grimaced. "Not that this isn't lovely...well, it isn't, but can we please spare the poor bystanders from you drooling over each other!" He stuck his fingers down his throat and made gagging noises to emphasis his point.

"Hey, it's not every day I have two versions of my favourite Welshman in the room."

"Well-"

Jones' wrist strapped beeped again. "Sorry sir but Owen's right, we don't have time for this. Doc, we need to get going."

There was no reply.

He looked around to find the Doctor had run off with Tosh and was practically stroking her computer. Jones rolled his eyes. "Doc!"

"Huh?" The Doctor spun around, pulling his glasses off his nose as he did so, his face the picture of bewilderment. Jones tapped his wrist strap as if it were a watch. "Oh, right, yes. What time is it?"

"Time we got out of here."


	18. Chapter 18

**I realise this is late, but it required more research than I bargined for, and it's 3x the usual length. Last chapter of part one.  
**

**Warnings: language, implied spoilers for Exit Wounds, big spoilers for Adam - you might need to refresh yourself with that episode, major spoilers for COE Day 4...*hides***

**Umm...enjoy?**

Chapter 18

"You're leaving?" Tosh asked, disappointed. She'd been dying to pick the Time Lord's brains for so long, and as soon as she got the chance it turned out he had to go.

The Doctor turned back at her remark, and grimaced regretfully, all the more for knowing her fate. "I'm sorry." And he really was.

He hopped off the podium, light footed and heavy hearted towards Jones. "Screwdriver."

Jones turned slightly, feigning ignorance. "Pardon?"

"My sonic screwdriver – gimme!" He extended his hand and wiggled his fingers.

Jones pouted.

Jack stared. He couldn't help the flutter of jealousy that pulsed through him at their easy banter. That, and pouting wasn't something he usually saw Ianto doing – and it looked damn sexy.

"I don't see a screwdriver." The Time Agent gestured to his less than fully covered body, and patted his bare chest to emphasis the fact. "Not many places you could hide a screwdriver here."

"Don't try it – you could hide a laser cannon wearing less clothing." Jones' answering smirk did nothing to cease the mental images flashing through the minds of other occupants of the Hub – except Mffanwy's of course.

"Oh fine!" The next second the sonic device was lying in the Doctor's hand, and the Torchwood Three team blinked in joint confusion. It didn't seem like either of the two who knew exactly what had just happened were going to bring them up to date, so they shunted such thoughts out of their heads for good. Well...Owen and Tosh did, the former after some grimacing; Ianto wondered when exactly he would learn that trick, and from whom; Jack however...put those thoughts aside for later, and brought himself back to the present.

"So that's it? That's goodbye?" Ianto asked.

Jones nodded, a regretful smile on his face. "Yeah: I've completed the mission I was here for and fulfilled my part of this messed up Timeline. So now it's time for us to go."

The Doctor looked slightly shifty, and cast a look at Jones. The Time Agent nodded. "Captain; a quick word?"

Jack looked on suspiciously, but followed the Doctor off to one side of the Hub. Ianto and Owen exchanged glances, before shuffling off slowly in the same direction to try and eavesdrop. Normally Ianto would be happy to let Jack have his privacy, but with Gwen absent_ somebody_ needed to remind their leader that they were supposed to be a team, and Ianto had a gut feeling that whatever it was they were discussing was important to _all_ of them.

"You could always come visit?" Tosh asked hopefully as she was temporarily left alone with the Agent. She felt slightly guilty about how much she was going to miss Jones, considering they now had Ianto back and all, but he had been so nice to her, and she'd enjoyed his company – however brief it had been.

"No, I can't."

The techie bit her lip and looked down, trying to hide her dismay. Jones felt his heart breaking just a little bit more.

"Hey; come here."

Tosh looked up to see a pair of open arms. She stepped into them without hesitation, and was pulled tightly and securely against a bare chest. She snorted slightly.

"What?" Jones asked, confused.

"You're going to need a new outfit."

"Why, don't you like it?"

"There isn't much to like."

"I don't think my boss will mind."

TWTWTWTW

The Doctor sighed as he noticed that Ianto and Owen were not so subtly following them. Jack saw them too and chuckled slightly.

"Looks like we'll need to work on our stealth." He made eye contact with Ianto who immediately blushed and looked away.

"You don't say."

"What do you want Doc?"

The Time Lord refused to meet his eyes but reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a silver cylinder, which he offered to Jack.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"That depends on what you think it is Captain." The Doctor rocked back and forth slightly on his heels, looking somewhat nervous.

"It looks like a data storage device."

"Hmm...yeah, well, sorta. This is more like a memory storage device, considering it's got your memories in it and all."

Jack frowned and tried to open the tube. His scowl deepened as he found himself unable to do so.

"Don't bother; it's Time Locked."

"So why give it to me now?"

"Because you're going to need it."

"What's in it?"

"Things you're not allowed to remember yet: paradoxes and all that." He paused before adding. "It includes today's memories."

"WHAT!" Jack burst out before he could stop himself. He glanced around to thankfully find that Owen and Ianto were...otherwise occupied. "What?" he repeated, keeping his voice low this time.

"You can't remember what's happened here Jack; I'm sorry. Well, it's less _you_ remembering and more the rest of your team – Ianto in particular but-"

"So you're just going to take our memories?" Torchwood's leader asked incredulously.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh no, nonononono...I'm not going to take your memories Jack." The man in question frowned. "Somebody else is." Jack glared. "Oh don't look at me like that! It has to happen, otherwise none of this will come to pass, and then, you know, BANG! There goes the universe!"

Jack sighed, realising that there was really nothing he could do about it anyway. Then something occurred to him. "What about this?" He waved the silver cylinder about, chucking it up in the air to the Doctor's horror.

"What about it?"

"I'll forget you've given it to me."

"It'll just be another mystery to puzzle over, and then one day you'll know what it is, and then you'll know everything."

It wasn't much of an answer, but Jack quickly realised it was the only one he was going to get.

TWTWTWTW

Ianto blushed as he was caught eavesdropping by Jack, and immediately looked away, dragging Owen backwards as he did so.

"What?" Owen asked, still trying to read Jack's lips.

"They know."

"Bugger." Ianto hummed in agreement. "Maybe we could go up the stairs and-" he trailed off as he caught sight of Tosh, or more specifically the well-muscled bare chest she was pressed against. Something that Owen would never admit was jealousy floated through his system: there was absolutely nothing to be jealous about, and even if there was it was _Ianto..._sort of_. _He frowned and stalked over, leaving the young Welshman to blink in surprise and follow him across the room.

As Owen approached he opened his mouth to make some sarcastic comment, meaning to embarrass Tosh, which would cause her to pull back and away from that toned chest and hopefully get rid of the annoying feeling in the doctor's stomach. Unfortunately Jones seemed to pre-empt his marvellous plan as he suddenly stepped back from Tosh, and the next thing Owen knew it was his own body being pulled against the still half naked man.

It took him a couple of seconds to recover from the shock, but as soon as he had he was struggling to free himself. He felt Jones' chuckles reverberate through his body as his attempts proved mostly useless; if anything the Time Agent's grip around him only tightened, allowing Owen to feel every arm muscle tensing – only _slightly_ he was irritated to notice – as he was held.

"Let me go you bastard."

"As you wish, though a please would have been nice."

The next second Owen found himself stumbling backwards under the momentum of his escape attempts. He growled as he regained his footing, shooting the dirtiest looks imaginable at the grinning man opposite him and the grinning man behind him, and one at Tosh who was actually _giggling_. He made a mental note to delete the CCTV footage later.

"I thought you were meant to be leaving."

"I wasn't going to go without saying goodbye Owen."

"Yeah well, see ya."

"Not quite. Doctor!"

The man looked over from where he and Jack had been talking.

"Done with the Captain yet?"

The Doctor gave a tight smile, and Jones bounded across the room to land just in front of Jack. Without further ado he grabbed the immortal by his lapels, and crashed their lips together. Jack, whilst somewhat surprised, soon got over his shock and responded eagerly.

The Doctor stared. "Right well, I'll just...go over here shall I?"

Ianto smirked as the Time Lord practically ran across the room to escape the scene of the crime. Working for Torchwood Three you became used to such sights, although to say that watching your older self snogging your current boss/sort-of-boyfriend senseless was weird would be the understatement of several centuries.

The Doctor came to a stop in front of Owen, who flinched backwards as a hand was extended to him. He remembered all too well what had happened last time someone had taken the Doctor's hand: namely the beginning of this ridiculous situation.

The older man frowned as he was ignored, a look of confusion plastered on his face. Then he brightened up as he came to a realisation.

"Oh, right, yes, sorry."

And then Owen was hugged for the second time in as many minutes.

The Doctor pulled back with a giant smile before moving on to give Tosh a hug. He lifted her up in the air and she squealed with delight. When he put her down he glanced over at Jones and the Captain, who were still at it.

"Oi! You two, knock it off!"

Jones waved a hand in acknowledgement and pulled away from Jack slightly, running his thumb over the older man's swollen lips.

"You've got less time with them than you think Jack." He whispered into his ear as he pulled the older man closer again.

Jack frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They don't have long left on this world sir." he nodded back to where Owen, Tosh and Ianto were stood with the Doctor, waiting for them.

"But _you're _older_-_"

"It doesn't work like that. Ianto doesn't have much time left with you, and neither do the other two."

"What about Gwen?"

Jones' jaw clenched slightly. "I've said enough as it is."

"But I won't remember this anyway."

"And that's the only reason I'm telling you. But I hope you'll remember somehow. Make the most of their time Jack."

Jones leant in and kissed him one last time before pulling back completely, and walking back over to the others.

"I will." Jack whispered, and followed.

TWTWTWTW

Ianto tensed as the Doctor let go of Tosh and walked over to him. He quickly stuck his own hand out, willing to risk being dragged away rather than hug the man he'd just remembered he was supposed to be angry with for kidnapping him.

The Doctor just beamed at his scowl and shook his hand as eagerly as the first time, completely oblivious to the glares coming from two of the three people he was facing. Ianto grabbed his hand back after a couple of seconds.

"Well, hasn't this been _nice_?" The Time Lord rubbed his hand through his hair.

Owen glared some more. Ianto tried to but felt his lips tugging upwards at the strange small talk. Tosh beamed back, finding the good humour to be catching.

"You could visit?" she asked timidly, but the Doctor didn't hear her over the sound of Jones thumping down beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

"We off then?" the Time Agent asked.

"I was waiting for you!"

"Really? Oh, in that case let's go!"

Jones turned to go, but then suddenly changed his mind, moving the Doctor out of the way to stand in front of his counterpart. Ianto blinked in surprise.

"Lisa was never your fault; it's time you stopped blaming yourself."

"I-"

Jones cut himself off with his lips.

Everyone stared.

Jones pulled back after a couple of seconds, grinned at the Doctor, and hightailed it into the Tardis, whose doors opened invitingly before he reached them. Within seconds he was out of sight, leaving the rest of them standing there, shocked.

Owen was the first to break the almost shell-shocked atmosphere. "Did that actually just happen?"

Ianto reached a hand up to his lips, tracing them as if memorising their shape. "Yep."

"Bloody hell."

Suddenly Jack leered, bringing the rest of the room out of their trance. "Well I'll be dreaming about that for months!"

Owen shuddered. "Nightmares more like. That was just wrong on so many levels!"

"Not to mention dangerous." The Doctor muttered, almost to himself. "Unstable Timelines, a crack in Time and Space and he goes and does _that_!" He suddenly noticed that everyone was looking at him. "Don't worry; I'm sure it's alright. Anyway, so, I really must be off, Jones is probably wrecking the engines-"

"Doctor?"

"Yes Captain?" The Doctor turned back around from where he'd started heading towards his ship to regard Jack curiously.

"How'd Ianto fly the Tardis?

"Oh, ah, _that_." He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his neck on the way down. "Yes, well, I'm not entirely sure, but there is a theory from the 74th century that might explain it: 'You always know everything you end up knowing, you just don't know you know it until you learn it.'"

He was met with a sea of blank faces, although Tosh looked curious.

"It all sounds like a load of nonsense really, I know, but basically it says that all your knowledge is somehow written into your brain, and that when you learn it you are just learning how to access it. So potentially you could draw upon things you learn in the future to use in the present, or past even."

"You're just confusing them Doc."

Everyone turned to see Jones leaning in the doorway of the Tardis, dressed in-

"Is that one of my suits?

Jones frowned. "Of course not, you're much too skinny. This was in your wardrobe."

"Yes, _my _wardrobe!"

"So everything in it is yours?"

"Yes!"

"Even the yellow spandex?"

"What? I don't remember any..." The Doctor looked up to find Jones grinning insanely. "Stop it you!"

"Nope." Jones finally hopped out of the doorframe and wondered over to where the Torchwood Three team were just standing there. "Basically Ianto can drive the Tardis because I can, and apparently that knowledge is already in his brain, waiting to be released."

"Actually I think that theory was discredited after a few years; something about the Professor being non-existent."

"Well it's the only explanation we have."

"Plato had a similar theory." Ianto cocked his head to the side slightly, trying to remember more. "He believed we had immortal souls from the world of forms that contained knowledge of everything. So he said that learning was just the soul recollecting things from before we were in this world. Or something like that."

The Doctor hummed. "Yeah, well, I couldn't hold my hypervodkas back then...I guess I must have slipped up, not that I remember...we were both pretty out of it...be nice to see Plato again actually..."

The room lapsed into a sudden silence, everyone in it lost in their own thoughts and theories.

The wailing of a rift alert shocked everyone into action: the Torchwood Three team scuttling off to their various stations whilst Jack barked out orders, and the Doctor racing past Jones to the Tardis.

Jones didn't move.

"We have to go _now_!" The Doctor poked his head around the Tardis door, shouting at the unresponsive man standing in the middle of the room. "We should already be gone!"

His shouts caught Jack's attention, who paused in bossing his team around and made his way back over until he was stood in front of the younger man, who seemed to be staring into space, lost in memories.

"Jones?" he reached out a hand, thumbing away the small tear that was making its way down the pale cheek.

"JONES!"

Jones blinked himself sadly back to the present at the Doctor's shout.

"Goodbye Jack."

The Time Agent finally turned away, walking calmly towards the Tardis, leaving Torchwood for the final time. He closed the ship's door behind him as the engines started up again, promising to take him away from what had once been his home. That was it: now he'd fulfilled his part of the Timeline he could never go back, no matter how much he wanted to.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, but this time his Captain wasn't there to wipe it away.

TWTWTWTW

Jack stared as the Tardis slipped out of existence, barely noticing the grinding of its engines or the shouts of his team behind him. When this had all started he couldn't wait to get rid of Jones, to have his own Ianto back; he'd thought he'd feel better – relieved even when everything was back to normal. As it turned out the visit had just left him with hundreds of more questions, very few answers, and a sudden longing for the 51st century.

He couldn't believe he'd known Jones for less than a day.

Why did he feel like he was losing something important?

"Sir?"

He turned to see Ianto looking worriedly at him from a few feet away. Owen and Tosh were stood slightly further back, but had similar expressions on their faces.

Jack sighed; it was time to come back to the present and be Captain Jack Harkness once again. He clapped his hands together and grinned, burying his previous thoughts deep inside.

"What've we got?"

"I'm not sure, but it's nearby."

"Owen, Ianto, you're with me; Tosh, stay here and direct us; as soon as you have a visual let us know."

"Will do."

The Cog door rolled open and then closed, as the team went off to meet the entity that had fallen through the rift; an entity that would be known as Adam.

"_Memory's a very delicate thing. Feeding myself in, wiped other memories out. It's a side effect of what I have to do in order to survive."_

Through the next forty-eight hours, the minds of the Torchwood Three team were twisted and tormented, pulled in and out of strange shapes until they almost forgot who they were. Their memories corrupted, defiled, some overruled and re-written, others lost completely.

Somewhere in a small spaceship above the earth, protected from detection by advanced shielding, Marge Alec finished deleting the CCTV footage, and smiled.

And the universe moved along, just like it was meant to.

Until the 456 came.

"_It's all my fault."_

"_No, it's not."_

"_Don't speak. Save your breath."_

"_I love you, I..."_

"_Don't. Ianto. Ianto. Ianto, stay with me. Ianto, stay with me, please. Please."_

"_Hey, it was good, yeah?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Don't forget me."_

"_Never could."_

"_A thousand years' time, you won't remember me."_

"_Yes, I will. I promise. I will."_

As Jack lay dying, another dead lover in his arms, he couldn't help but think that this shouldn't have happened. Something was very, very wrong, even if he couldn't remember what.

Because if Ianto Jones is dead, how does he become a Time Agent?

Suddenly the universe had a problem.

A big one.

**End of Part One**

**...  
**

**Please don't kill me?**

**Love to know what you thought; despite the horrendous cliffhanger I hope I've brought most of it together; please feel free to PM me if you're still confused about anything, and I'll do my best to remedy that.**

**There will not be another update for about three weeks, as I have these wonderful things called EXAMS! GRRRR...**

**And to clear something up this fic is mainly Ianto-centric, or it's supposed to be, but will later be rather a lot of Janto.  
**

**Hope you enjoyed.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you so much for all your brilliant support with this fic, and all that luck you sent for the exams worked marvellously! So doubly thanks!**

**So dreadfully sorry for my timing; this has got to be at least three weeks late. I won't bore you with the details, instead I'll just grovel, and give you a slightly longer chapter than usual. *grovels*  
**

**Serious crossover now. Will be spoilers for most things DW now, and for most of TW. I own neither Doctor Who nor Torchwood, or anything else in this chapter.  
**

**And flashbacks in italics**.

Chapter 19

It wasn't dark, which was odd, considering his eyes were closed. Instead there seemed to be a warm reddish glow to everything, and strands of other colours flitting about across his eyelids.

It also wasn't cold, not particularly, although there was some sort of draught, as if someone had left a door open somewhere and just forgotten about it.

It wasn't even quiet; a shame really, as his head was pounding. That was something else that wasn't right; he was fairly sure he wasn't supposed to be in pain anymore. It was one of the things that had always consoled him about the end: no more hurting, no more suffering, no more _anything_. (Or nothing and 'something moving in the darkness', if you believed Suzie.)

In fact a somewhat familiar tune was filtering through his ears and into his brain. He recognised it in the way you remember a song played in a shop as you walk past; when you hear it again you feel like you should know it, but it just escapes your grasp. Maybe it had been something his sister had once listened to. Maybe Jack had sung it at him.

In any case it definitely wasn't quiet.

And that was wrong, because wasn't death meant to be cold, dark and quiet?

Ianto Jones opened his eyes, and sat up.

The room swayed, different parts swimming in and out of focus as he moved, trying to regain his balance. He knew that if he'd actually had anything left in his stomach he would have thrown it up.

As the room around him gradually re-aligned itself with reality, Ianto suddenly wished it hadn't.

"Have you kidnapped me again?" he asked the suited man leaning on the Tardis' central console, staring at him with a blank but cold face.

"I don't kidnap people."

"I could dispute that. Twice in fact."

Having mostly regained his equilibrium, Ianto took a moment to take a good stock of his surroundings, tuning his senses to pick up everything he could as he'd once been taught, using his whole body to feel for every clue he could, even as an unbidden memory floated into his mind.

"_Keep your eyes closed." The familiar voice breathed down his neck._

"_You've blindfolded me." Ianto felt the need to point out. "It won't make a difference." He turned his head slightly to address the man stood rather close behind him, one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other resting lightly on his shoulder._

"_That's not the point." _

_Ianto could almost hear the pout in the Captain's voice. "Then what is the point?"_

"_You're blind. You can't just rely on your sight alone; you need to learn to see with _every_ part of your body."_

_Ianto tried to suppress a smirk, but it quickly disappeared as Jack started drawing circles on his stomach. "Umm...what are you-"_

"_Shh...I want you to find me."_

"_You're right b-" Before he'd even finished the sentence it became untrue, as Jack suddenly pulled back and away from him, leaving Ianto feeling bereft without his touch._

_He immediately spun around and reached blindly, searching the area where the Captain had been mere seconds ago. He was met with empty air._

"_Jack?" he called out, abruptly aware of the way his voice echoed in the large room. Well, large enough for a person to be able to evade his sweeping arms._

_The next second his hands were grabbed from the left and placed gently back by his sides. "Do I have to tie your hands too?" This time the voice came from his right. The hands pulled back again, leaving his own in place. "Use your other senses." And that time the voice was from directly in front._

_Ianto gritted his teeth, determined to beat the older man at his own game. Oh, he'd find him alright, and then he'd show him something much more interesting they could do with the blindfold..._

_He stilled; centring himself and relaxing his whole body. He immediately became aware of the symphony of sounds around him: the hum of machinery that seemed to seep into every room in the Hub, even if like this one it had nothing actually in it. The rattle of water through some nearby pipes. The distant howl of the were-rabbit they had in one of the cells – Owen had been cracking endless jokes about that one. The sound of his own breathing. The slight swish of material to his left. Ianto honed in on it whilst giving no outward appearance of having noticed anything. Now that he concentrated he could hear a gentle breath every so often from that direction. Jack's ever present pheromones seemed slightly more concentrated in that area. And if he leaned ever so slightly forwards there was a definate warmth spreading out from where he now knew his Captain was._

_Ianto smiled internally. _Gotcha.

_He stopped his own breathing and focused harder, waiting for the perfect moment._

_An almost silent footfall...not silent enough._

_Ianto pounced._

He was in the main room of the Tardis; that much he'd already gathered from his first look, but it seemed different from the last time he was there. He was lying on some sort of cold metal table, which reminded him rather disconcertingly of the one in the autopsy bay back at the Hub. He was also – even more disconcertingly – naked, save for a pair of boxers. A door banged somewhere within the depths of the ship, blown by the draught he'd felt earlier; he still couldn't tell where it came from though. The music he'd heard was issuing from a gramophone propped up against some bizarre looking dictionaries: it sounded much like music from his own time, although he couldn't say for certain.

And although he didn't know why, he thought the ship seemed _sad_.

In fact, so did the only other occupant – at least as far as he could see.

Ianto stared openly at the Doctor, taking in everything else he could about the man. He seemed to actually be propping himself up against the centre of his ship, as if he was struggling to stay upright under the weight of the world on his shoulders. And maybe he was.

The blue suit hung limply to his frame, as if he'd missed a few meals too many but hadn't got any new clothes. His face was gaunt, dark circles under his eyes, his lips thin and pressed together. Ianto was sure that if he'd been close enough to get a good look at his eyes they'd be swirling with a million emotions, dark and piercing as they were from across the few metres that separated them.

Ianto wondered what had happened to turn the previously cheerful man into the one before him now. Of course he'd realised that most of it was just an act anyway: the deep and meaningful conversations being anything but; the manic grin covering the grief of loss. But he'd thought that he'd been happy, despite all the hurt; saving people and living life as it came, making a difference to so many. Now the act had been stripped away it seemed as if the man underneath couldn't find his feet, and was instead drowning in his own thoughts.

The Doctor didn't move under the scrutiny, and his expression didn't change. But Ianto wasn't really paying much attention to him anymore, as he'd suddenly remembered something much more important.

His study of the Time Lord had got him thinking about how much their lives were alike. He'd saved the world too, over and over and over, with barely any recognition or thanks, constantly trying to make up for past mistakes. He'd had a perfect act too; everything planned and worked out, but then it had crumbled around him. Lisa had haunted him; he'd been drowning in despair until a pair of solid not-American hands had fished him out, and saved him. But then he'd fallen for his saviour, and only had the courage to tell him when...

"I died."

"Yep." The Doctor confirmed shortly, popping the 'p' sound.

Ianto raised an eyebrow incredulously. "That's your explanation? _'Yep'_?" There was no reply. "Am I still dead?"

"Don't be ridiculous: you wouldn't be _alive_ if you were _dead._"

At first that seemed like a somewhat redundant statement, especially considering what had happened to Owen, but as he thought it over Ianto suddenly realised that it was right. Air was flowing into his lungs, and out again. He could hear his heart beating in his chest, pumping the vital oxygen around his body. He could feel every inch of his skin, tingling with sensation.

He couldn't remember _ever_ feeling more alive than he did at that moment.

"How?" he asked instead, voice cracking slightly.

The Doctor sighed, and rolled his eyes, some semblance of emotion briefly crossing his face. "You humans and your details! I brought you back. Used the vortex energy in the Tardis to reboot your system." The short sentence apparently summed everything up.

"Does that mean I'm like..." Ianto trailed off suddenly, his heart constricting with pain at the thought of that certain man. He took a deep breath and ploughed onwards. "Like Jack?"

"No." The Doctor's face shut down again, thoughts of what the Captain had become obviously still haunting him. Ianto had put together enough from Jack's cryptic sentences, stories and the Torchwood Archives to know that Jack's immortality had come from the use of the Tardis – supposedly this vortex energy – by one of his companions. He probably felt guilty. "Jack's an impossible thing; a Fixed Point. You're not: I wouldn't have let it happen twice."

"So...?" Ianto prompted again when the Doctor refused to explain.

"You've got enough life force inside you for two, maybe three more lives. That should be enough."

"Two or three...?" He stared, gobsmacked.

The Doctor hummed, but otherwise ignored him.

Ianto found himself starting to get annoyed; this man seemed rather different from the man he'd met last time...

His eyes widened comically as realisation crept in.

He _remembered_. Had done as soon as he'd woken up ('_revived_' a small part of his brain corrected) but he'd just pushed it to the side. You could even say he hadn't remembered he'd ever forgotten.

"I remember."

"Remember what?" The Time Lord looked somewhat disinterested, bored even, but mostly just sad.

"You."

"Hmm...yes, we met over that video link Harriet Jones set up. Former Prime Minister she was." He rubbed the back of his neck, and Ianto briefly saw the carefree man he'd been before.

"No..."

"Really? I'm sure that's happened for you already, especially considering we're now post-mortem..." The Doctor frowned slightly.

"Yes, it has happened, but I met you before that. I just didn't remember."

"Really? Well, I guess seeing me again must have triggered the memories. Where was it? Forgive me for not remembering, but I have got rather a lot in this head of mine and..."

Ianto was rather puzzled by the Doctor's erratic behaviour: one minute he was depressed and silent, the next he was rattling on cheerfully, locked in recollections of better times, when things were just a game. The mood swings rather reminded him of Jack, and in turn of a child.

"...did I barge past you? I do rather a lot of that I'm afraid. Oh, oh, oh, I bet I stole your tie!"

As the suggestions got more ludicrous Ianto decided to finally butt in. "No, we met in Torchwood Cardiff's Hub..."

Suddenly the Doctor frowned again, as if scanning his own brain. "Oh well, in that case you'd better not say anything else."

Now Ianto was frowning too, but the Time Lord didn't continue, instead becoming glum and withdrawn again.

Ianto suddenly noticed the song on the gramophone had changed, this time to something he had definitely heard before, although the relevance escaped him at that time.

"_...And being in your life is gonna change me.  
And now I can see every single possibility..."_

"Why not?" he prompted after several minutes had passed.

The Doctor looked back at him, face locked down once more. "Because it hasn't happened to me yet – this is the first time for me that we've met in person; and knowing one's own future is a _very_ bad idea."

"_...And I promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get.  
I just haven't met you yet."_

Fate had to be laughing at him.

Ianto blinked. He thought for a while before speaking again. He wanted to ask about the things he'd suddenly remembered (although there did seem to still be just over a day missing); about the time when he'd met the Doctor before – well, been kidnapped by him. He'd met himself too; his future self; a future he'd then had to forget about so it would still come to pass. Because Ianto knew now, without a doubt, that if he'd been allowed to keep those memories he would have done things differently.

"Ah. Can't argue there."

He'd have got out of Torchwood for a start, and then he wouldn't have died like that and consequently wouldn't be having this conversation and...

He was starting to get a headache.

TBC

**Hopefully that's cleared most things up, and everything else should be explained in the next chapter, as I really don't want to drag them out.**

**Hope nobody's too confused :P**

**Reviews and concrit are loved; it'd be brilliant to know what you thought.  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Please be aware I'm now distorting the Doctor's personal timeline. We are now after Journey's End but I am lengthening the time between that and the next episode considerably.**

**This has now been moved to the crossover section of the site.  
**

**Many thanks to Spazzer Monkey, Pernica, Orion Lyonesse, an NikkieSheepie for the reviews!**

Chapter 20

"Why'd you do it?" Ianto asked next; his long list of questions gradually diminishing. "Why'd you bring me back?"

The Doctor pushed himself off the console in order to type something on an apparently random keyboard.

"I had to."

"Why?"

"You just don't stop with the questions do you?"

"Curiosity."

"Bane of the human race."

"And it killed that poor cat..."

A small smile threatened to lift the Doctor's lips. But it was swiftly snuffed out. "Satisfaction certainly didn't bring _you_ back."

Ianto couldn't help but tense up at the truth n that statement. "No. It didn't."

The Doctor spun around to face Ianto, who was still sat up on the metal table like thing he'd woken up on, wishing he had something to cover himself up with. Much as the Doctor didn't seem to care about his state of undress, Ianto did.

"You have to be alive in the future in order for certain fixed events to come to pass."

"So I wasn't meant to die?"

"What? Oh no, you were. But you were also meant to live."

"That makes no sense."

"That's what I said."

Ianto clenched his jaw. "You're not so good at this are you?"

The Doctor blinked. "At what?"

"Explanations."

There was a pause. "No, I'm not really. To be honest I usually run away before it gets to that point."

If Ianto had been any more irritated he would have growled.

The Doctor crossed his arms and stared for a few moments, before apparently coming to a decision. "Your death happened. If it hadn't...well, I'm not really sure, but it doesn't matter now. _However_...your Captain's a fixed point in Time and Space because he met me. He met me because of certain events that happened; events which _you_ Mr. Jones are a big part of..."

*Flashback*

_The Doctor closed the Tardis door behind him and immediately leant against it, wishing that the physical barrier could act as a mental one too._

_He'd mostly locked himself away from the outside, hidden inside his box, trying to keep himself occupied with whatever he could find. First he'd gone through the news from as many planets and times as he could find, aiming to hunt down a disaster free area. After all, there surely couldn't be trouble everywhere _and_ everywhen, could there?_

_He'd never found out. He'd stopped reading after the first few hundred years of a few planets; it was too distressing to hear about how everyone was hell-bent on destroying both their neighbours and themselves._

_He gazed out into the empty ship before him, seeing the ghosts of the people who could have – should have been there. So many companions, and now all of them were gone one way or another. He still found himself turning to Donna on occasion, ready to suggest some wild idea, only to find that she wasn't there._

_It had been three weeks since he'd saved her._

_Three weeks since he'd lost her._

_And the Doctor was still mourning._

_He wasn't eating well now that she wasn't there to shove something down his throat, complaining that he was too skinny for his own good. He didn't go out much either; now he had no one to share it with the universe just seemed like a cold and lonely place once more._

_The place currently behind the door he was slumped against was a little village on Draxian 4 in the late 3700s. He had actually gone out to try and help once he'd got wind of the brutal slave markets there. His first venture back into the 'real world'. As it turned out the rumours weren't quite accurate: the Draxians were in fact selling themselves to the highest bidder, and then killing their new owners and stealing their possessions._

_When he found out he was outraged; he'd tried to make them see the evil in what they were doing._

_They hadn't listened._

_So he'd stopped them._

_The Doctor sighed, and heaved himself up and into the middle of the room; coming to a stop beside an old rastuophone (looked like an old earth gramophone, but actually played pretty much anything you put in one of the many slot; except minidisks, it didn't like them), he decided that maybe some music would be good for his soul._

_The first thing he found to play was a CD of earth hits from the early 21st century. He sighed again at that: no matter what he did he always managed to find something to remind him of that time period on Earth. It was like there was some kind of link between him and that place, forever drawing him back. He'd been there and around there so many times he was always slightly afraid of bumping into himself, or someone else who knew him in the past, present or future. Or maybe all three._

_He put the disk on anyway._

_He hadn't been anywhere near 21st century Earth since..._

_He didn't think he'd be going back anytime soon._

_The Doctor span around, letting the strains of something that might have been Madonna drift through the almost endless corridors of the Tardis. To be honest the music just reminded him of everything he'd lost, but it was better than the silence. _Anything _was better than the silence._

_He span one final time, his converse squeaking against the floor, before letting himself fall onto the middle seat of the couch-like thing that he rarely used._

_There was the sound of crumpling paper from underneath him._

_The Doctor froze. The three-seater chair had been empty a second ago, and now he was sitting on something that definitely wasn't a cushion..._

_He picked himself up slightly and pulled the offending item into the open._

_It was a folder. A big, fat, folder; one of those beige ones that have lots of little tabs in them to make them look important; the ones that have TOP SECRET stamped on top in the movies. This one had a stamp, but instead of saying TOP SECRET it said IMPORTANT. There was another stamp a bit lower down: it read VERY IMPORTANT. And under that someone had printed the words READ ME!_

_"Who's there?" the Doctor called out._

_The folder hadn't been there a minute ago, which meant someone had put it there – probably whilst he was busy being depressed. But there was no one else in the Tardis with him; there couldn't be. The Tardis would have told him if there was. And no one was meant to be able to teleport into the Tardis either...so where had the folder come from?_

_"What's going on?" he asked to the world in general. As expected, there was no reply save the ever present humming of his ship._

_The Doctor bit his lip, and looked down at the document he was holding._

_"Read me...well, what harm could it do?" Besides, if it blew up it wasn't like anyone would miss him..._

_He opened the folder._

_It didn't blow up._

_There was a face on the first page: young, white British looking male, short dark hair, high forehead...he looked familiar, but it wasn't until the Doctor read the name underneath that he remembered._

_"Ianto Jones...what have you done?"_

_He'd only met the young man once, although not in person. He'd seemed quiet, not shy exactly, just reserved, but sharp witted and clever. Torchwood, but one of Jack's, so trustworthy; and if memory served him correctly, Jack's lover: one of the people the Captain had left him for. He was also dead. So all in all not someone the Doctor expected to be an ominous looking file along with several cautionary notes about dealing with the individual._

_Curiosity piqued, he flipped over the page, and was greeted by a much more usual information page. The small picture in the top right depicted a younger Ianto than the one the Doctor had seen, only by a few years or so, but the weight behind the blue eyes was so very different, and his face seemed so much...happier, as if he didn't have so much responsibility on his shoulders. The Doctor assumed the picture was pre-Torchwood, or at least before the organisation started corrupting him. The details were all the normal things you'd expect to see: height, weight, CV, police reports, date of birth, date of death... Considering the lack of all things alien the Time Lord assumed this was the file available to the general public around 2010._

_He flipped the page again to find what looked like the beginnings of a Torchwood personnel file, mentioning recruitment _('Helped with capture of temporally displaced creature and Weevil. Makes good coffee. Previous experience of extra-terrestrial life forms. Looks good in suit.) _, and details on original job specifications. However that was where the information cut off, as if in the middle of being gathered. Although it was quite likely that the missing data was simply no longer available to be collected, especially with the explosion of the Hub in the year 20-something or other._

_But it was the next page that made the Doctor's eyes widen._

_It looked similar to the second page at first glance, but at the same time it was as different as could be._

_"No...nonononono...that's just not possible..." _

_The image was of an older Ianto, a Ianto the Doctor would place at being early thirties, easily older than the man had been the day he died. And the shock didn't stop there. The picture bore an almost military discipline, and the reason had been obvious the moment he'd turned the page: it was a Time Agency recruitment file that filled the page; a file on one Agent Jones._

_The stats all matched the ones on the previous pages, except the birth and death dates, besides which there were simply question marks. But overall, there could be no doubt that they were one in the same man._

_The Doctor could feel his breathing start to become laboured as his mind boggled over the impossibility of it all. Because it wasn't possible, yet it was._

_He ran a hand through his hair, abolishing any semblance of order it might once have had. As he did so his elbow knocked against the file and it crashed to the floor._

_"Oh come on!" He barely bit back a curse as the individual papers scattered themselves about the Tardis in a snowstorm of white paper. He glared at the sheets, making a random grab and coming back with only a solitary sheet of paper. As it happened that sheet contained information which would affect and shape the Doctor's actions from that moment on until years had passed. _

_It seemed like a certain Welshman was alive and well in the 51st century, and had a lot to answer for._

_So the only question now left was-_

_"How?"_

_And one way or another, the Doctor was going to find out. He punched co-ordinates into his ship for the first time in weeks, setting course for a blue and green planet he'd been sure he'd never visit again._

_So much for that._

_TBC  
_


	21. Chapter 21

**Lapse in updates, sorry guys, RL and exams are back with a vengence, so regular posting is now out the window :(  
**

**Please note: I did research cryonics (or cryogenics as you probably know it), so this is all based on facts, but I've twisted most of them, made details up and kept the rest very vague. So just know there's a lot of problems with it, and don't take anything I say as fact.**

Quick recap: Previously in the flashback - as the Doctor explains why Ianto is alive - he's found out about Agent Jones, and so has gone back to 21st century earth to investigate what the hell happened.**  
**

Chapter 21

_The Tardis landed with a groan and a shudder._

_The man inside the Tardis landed with a _thump_ and an _"Owww..."

_The Doctor made a note to take his own advice and actually hang onto something in the future. It might save him some broken bones. With one final groan he picked himself up and stood facing the door. Out there he knew could be the answer to all his questions; or it might be the beginning of even more. He knew about the 456, about what Jack had to do to save the planet this time, and he was sorry he hadn't been there to help. He'd known about it of course, but he'd been smarting from Donna's loss acutely and..._

_He hadn't wanted to see Jack again, quite frankly. Being near him was hard, and it had been made even worse by the fact that the Captain had left him; he had people to go home to. Someone in particular to stick around for._

_Not anymore though. His selfishness had cost Jack the one thing the Doctor envied him. _

_That had been just one more reason to stay away from Earth; he hadn't wanted to bump into Jack; to be forced to face the reality of what he'd done to the man. In the end he hurt all of his companions; some more than others. Even those he didn't travel with ended up losing. Maybe he made them better, but he also made them worse. Davros had rammed that point home pretty hard, even before he'd lost Donna. _

_He really was running because he couldn't bear to look back._

_But there was no chance of bumping into the Captain this time. If the Doctor had got the timings right – which he was fairly sure he had for once – Jack had left months ago, looking for the solution to an answerless problem. Or grieving, as it was often referred to._

_The Doctor sighed, pocketed his screwdriver and a bag of jelly babies, and walked out the door._

_He paused, one foot in, one foot out of the Tardis, staring in shock. He'd expected a cemetery; a nice open space with trees and graves covered in flowers. He'd locked the Tardis onto the final resting place of Mr. Jones, and so had certainly not been expecting a UNIT storage facility._

_Four stark white walls framed a warehouse of boxes, crates and all manner of papers and trinkets, many with the Torchwood logo on the side. In fact, so many of the items showed that particular sign that he would have mistaken it for one of Jack's (or Archie's or god forbid Yvonne's) holding areas, if not for the giant 'UNIT' mounted onto one of the walls. He briefly wondered about what it was that made Special Ops groups so partial to advertising their presence wherever they went: case in point, bright red berets. That, he would never understand._

_He didn't remember seeing this storage area before – and he'd come across rather a number of the places over the years – so the Doctor figured it was a new one, or maybe a secret one._

_He wandered over to one of the boxes, tapping the emblazoned T on the side._

"_What are you doing here then?" He murmured to the box, pressing his ear against it as if expecting a reply._

_None was forthcoming._

_He pushed off and started weaving between the haphazard isles, making a mental list of things he needed to confiscate at some point. Rather a large number of the items were scorch marked, as if they'd been on the edge of a burning building. Previously he'd have taken that as a sign that they'd come from Canary Wharf, now however there was the possibility of Cardiff too. A frown dented the Doctor's face as he took in the facts. Someone (apparently UNIT), had been collecting alien items from various sources, including the destroyed Torchwood bases._

"_Even better question..." he continued on from his previous train of thought: "What am _I _doing here?"_

_Unfortunately he was fairly sure he knew exactly why he was there. He just hoped he was wrong. The Doctor passed another row of crates, his face falling as he came into view of the far wall. As the Time Lord stared into the face of one perfectly preserved Mr. Ianto Jones, he wondered why he was always so concerned for the human race, saving their skins, as they always seemed to make his life so much more difficult._

TWTWTWTW

_It was a freezer._

_That was the easiest and most accurate way of describing the thing, and after half an hour of poking and prodding, it was the only name the Doctor could come up with. He would have expected it to be a cryonics device, but it wasn't quite what he'd have expected from one of those at this particular date._

_He paused in his inspection for a minute and stood back, getting another visual of the thing._

_It was big, very big, covering almost the entire lower half of one wall – the same wall that was home to the UNIT sign. It was also bulky, coming out at least a metre into the room. The front was made out of glass so you could see right into it. The Doctor really wished he couldn't. The sight before him would be disturbing on a good day, and this was certainly not a good day._

_The freezer was split into sections big enough to easily accommodate a standing human being: which was exactly what was in there. He'd counted thirteen bodies in total, with spaces for at least twice that amount spare._

_It was labelled as a stasis chamber, but it wasn't designed for keeping a human being alive indefinitely, and everyone inside looked distinctly dead._

_It was a freezer. Keeping the bodies from rotting. The Doctor forced back a shudder at that particular thought._

_He moved closer to the glass again, staring into blue eyes. He wondered if Jack knew his man was here. He thought not. He _hoped_ not, because if he did...Jack Harkness really was a heartless bastard._

_A door opened nearby, but the ancient man was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. He was sure there'd been a funeral for the man before him, so it was likely that the body simply hadn't been put in the coffin. It was sad: Ianto Jones' relatives had been deprived of that final closure, even if they were unaware of the fact. Instead, he was being kept in a cool box in a warehouse on the outskirts of London._

_The Doctor frowned, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver again. He'd come here to find out how this man had survived, but instead he'd only found out that he hadn't._

"_But that doesn't make sense!" The Time Lord paced around in a circle, his hands running back and forth through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. "Unless..." he turned back towards the freezer, pointing the screwdriver at the section in front of him. The glass panel for that sectios slid upwards, water vapour immediately pouring out and escaping the icy prison. The Doctor quickly stepped into the box, putting a hand up to check the man's pulse._

_Nothing._

_He waited a few minutes, feeling as gradually the skin beneath his fingers warmed up from its previously frozen state._

_Still nothing._

_The Doctor looked at the glazed blue eyes accusingly, as if it was their fault they were no longer functioning._

_Something creaked a few metres away. The Doctor's head snapped around, pointing his screwdriver at a UNIT guard – he could tell by the beret – who was in turn pointing a gun at him. Having been spotted, the guard immediately took up a defensive stance and steadied his aim._

"_Put the rod down and step away from the body!"_

_The Doctor frowned at his screwdriver, slipping back into his cheerful persona. "Did you hear that? He just called you a _rod_! The audacity!" The guard, unused to such behaviour, readied his gun. "Now there's no need for tha-"_

"_PUT IT DOWN!"_

"_Alright, alright." He slowly lowered the screwdriver to the ground, stepping out of the freezer in the process. "Now what?"_

_The guard was obviously new; he stood there, baffled and staring at the Time Lord. But his aim never wavered. The Doctor took the opportunity to size up his opponent. He was young, younger than Mr Jones by a few years, with slicked back dark hair peeking out from under his cap. Deep brown eyes, an olive complexion and high cheekbones made him rather handsome. Greek, if he had to guess. He was probably about 5" 5' in height, and slim in a way that screamed 'I'm strong, but not overly'. All in all, the perfect UNIT guard: naive but deadly. Although the rough Scottish accent had been a bit of a surprise._

_Finally the boy seemed to come to his senses. "Stay there, I'm calling the doctor."_

"_Doctor Who?"_

"_Stop talking!"_

_The Time Lord bit back a grin at that; he hadn't been able to resist the joke, and had almost hoped the guard would reply with: 'Just the doctor' for the sake of completion – or maybe nostalgia. Instead the man was now glaring at him and reaching for his radio._

"_Doctor Wiffle? Please report to main storage area, section F immediately."_

_There was a quiet voice speaking in reply, but the Doctor had lost interest, instead focusing on a much more important matter._

"_Wiffle? Wiffle...that's...blimey that's brilliant!" An ear-splitting grin covered his face for the first time in ages._

"_For the love of- keep your voice down! If the doctor hears you say that he'll have a fit!"_

"_Why? Wiffle's a wonderful word – ooh, alliteration as well!"_

"_Shut it!" The guard finally seemed to remember he was supposed to be guarding, and lifted his gun back up from where it had started to droop._

"_Sorry, sorry." The Doctor apologised, obviously not feeling very sorry at all. They waited in almost silence for a few minutes. Every so often the Doctor attempted conversation again, but was always stopped with a gun wave, a glare, or even a 'do you know what belt up means?'_

_He was about to risk it all and try one more time when something in a lab coat came barrelling around the corner, stopping about a centimetre before careening into the guard._

"_You shouldn't stand in the way like that Brawn." It said, its voice dry and impatient._

_The guard sighed. "Brian, Doctor Wiffle. My name's Brian."_

"_But I'm the brains and you're the brawn, eh?" Doctor Wiffle nudged Brian in the ribs, but didn't get a response having obviously told that joke far too many times for it to even be _bad_ anymore. Wiffle expelled a puff of air instead, and finally seemed to notice The Doctor's existence. "Young people these days eh? No sense of humour!"_

_The Time Lord forced a smile for the over-exuberant man, and took a moment to catalogue his appearance. Basically, he looked like your typical mad scientist – unruly grey hair, bottle stopper spectacles, short, pudgy and with a rather crazed look in his eye._

"_What am I doing here then Brawn?"_

_Brian looked like he really wanted to roll his eyes, but instead pointed at the Doctor who was rather oblivious to the gun still aimed in his direction. "We've got an intruder sir."_

"_Yes, that would be me! Hello, I'm the Doctor." He grinned as he introduced himself, wondering what reply he'd get this time._

"_An intruder you say?" _

"_Yes sir."_

"_So why haven't you called security?"_

_The Doctor's face fell as he realised he was being ignored._

"_Well you said if anything ever happened in section F I should call you first-OUCH!"_

_He stared as Wiffle suddenly cuffed the guard over the head. "I meant something happening _in_ section F you fool!"_

"_B-but, ah, he's opened the preservation chamber."_

_An unholy shriek filled the air. "He did WHAT?"_

_The Doctor winced. "I was just checking-"_

"_YOU IDIOT!"_

_Suddenly Wiffle was standing right in front of him, gesticulating madly and talking so fast he couldn't understand a thing or get a word in edgeways._

"_Should I call security now sir?" Brian's voice cut across the rant._

"_Oh what's the point? My finest work, ruined! They wanted this one back as well in a decade or two!" Wiffle cast a despairing glance at the body to his right._

"_Now now, there's no need to panic-"_

"_No need to...there's every reason to panic! He's dead!"_

"_Just, just calm down and talk me through what's going on." The Doctor put on his best 'trust me, I'm a doctor' voice, and placed his hands on Wiffle's shoulders to stop him running away. "Now tell me what Mr. Jones was doing there in the first place."_

_Wiffle looked at him, baffled. "Mr. Jones?"_

"_Yes, _him_." The Doctor motioned his head into the still open freezer._

"_Oh, patient seven. He was brought here about eight months ago to be put into the scheme."_

"_The scheme?"_

"_The Preservation scheme. The...the Freezer; section F as we call it. It preserves the bodies of important or rich people until they can be re-animated at some point in the future. It's not quite cryogenics but it's close."_

"_That's not possible." Well it was, but not yet._

"_That's what you think."_

_The Doctor made a mental note to check that out at some point. "Why Mr. Jones?"_

_Wiffle looked slightly guilty about that. "Ah, well, we've had some problems with the scheme..."_

"_What kind of problems?" Wiffle stayed silent._

"_It doesn't work." Brian's small voice floated over from where he had taken a seat on a random box, apparently having decided the strange man in the suit didn't pose a threat._

"_It will work! I just need more time!"_

"_What's wrong with it?" The Doctor interrupted before this obviously old argument started up again._

_Once more it was Brian who answered. "When the corpses are re-animated they aren't themselves; they're just that...corpses. The mind has gone – we can't retrieve it anyway – it's only the body that lives on, and without a mind to sustain them...they're dead. Either the mind can't be recovered, or we don't yet have the technology right to recover it. We thought we'd cracked it; that's the whole point of the project, but it doesn't work."_

_The Doctor frowned. "That doesn't answer my question: why him?"_

"_Patient seven is Torchwood, which makes the body ours. No one knows or cares that he's here, so it doesn't matter if it doesn't work."_

_The Doctor bit back his disgust: if he wasn't so worried about the Timelines he would have been ranting at how unethical it all was. "So who are the others?" he asked instead._

"_Ours mostly – UNIT personnel. There's a couple from other organisations too."_

_He took a deep breath, mulling the whole thing over, and turned back to the scientist again. "What gives you the _right_?"_

"The right_?" Wiffle laughed. "They do, moment they join up, signing everything away they have, including their own rights, to be part of this!" Wiffle's hands waved wildly with the statement, before he dropped them to mutter: "Idiots."_

"_So Mr. Jones is just a...convenient choice?" The anger had started to bubble into his words, but he no longer cared._

"_Oh no, he's so much more than that!" Wiffle didn't seem to be able to sense the disgust in the air, or if he did he was ignoring it. He had that gleam in his eye people get when they talk about something they're really interested in, or mad about. "Patient seven is quite unique! He's the only one so far we've been able to successfully keep the mind from dying, as it were. Of course I say we, but really I have no idea how it's working – it's certainly nothing I've done. But something seems to be holding him here; whenever we've done a partial revival his brain activity seems to restart briefly, even though his body's still dead. I think it might be something to do with the Rift – he has lived on top of it for quite some time. Or it may have been something he's come across during his life; certain radiation, some device... It's incredible!" The scientist seemed to suddenly come back to the present. "And now you've ruined it!"_

_The Doctor stared, shocked. He'd thought he'd had his answer: Mr. Jones would be revived by UNIT, and somehow from there get to the 51__st__ century – probably running after Jack with some appropriated technology. But apparently he'd ruined all that._

"_What? Why?"_

"_You've unfrozen him!" The Doctor raised an eyebrow in question. "The technology hasn't yet been invented for us revive him properly! Your 'Mr. Jones' here is once again, dead!"_

_The Time Lord furrowed his brow. "So refreeze him."_

"_No, no, no!" Wiffle looked at him like he was an idiot (something the Doctor didn't get very much of, but he wasn't going to mention he actually knew all this stuff already, as he was a little rusty). "It's not actual freezing, but that's beside the point. This is just storage and testing facility; this isn't where we 'freeze' the bodies: you can't just shove him box in the box – it doesn't work like that!" The mad scientist looked at him accusingly. "He's dead, and he always will be." And with that he sighed, and turned away. "Brian, call security – get him out of here and make sure they wipe his memory."_

_Brian nodded, thumbing his radio._

"_No."_

_Wiffle turned back round at the small outburst. "You haven't got much choice in the matter."_

"_I meant about the dead thing..." The Doctor paused, staring into Wiffle's curious eyes with an intensity that had the other man step backwards. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle had started falling into place. "I can bring him back."_

TBC

**And that seemed like a nice dramatic place to end :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts and any concrit you have.  
**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm pretty sure most of you guessed what happens next, so here we are, finally ending the longest flashback I have ever written! Phew!**

Previously: Dr. Wiffle has explained why Ianto's body was in The Freezer, and that the Doctor's actions have basically killed him, as they don't have the technology avaliable to bring him back.

_The Doctor paused as suddenly the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. "I can bring him back."_

Chapter 22

"_Don't be silly man." Wiffle scoffed. Any other time the Doctor would have launched into an explanation about exactly what he was doing – he'd have been happy too even; eager to prove his genius to a doubter – but this was not any other time. Every second he wasted was another second everything could go wrong: Time could start unravelling, universes could split: every moment that passed was another moment he wasn't fixing things._

_And he didn't fancy being there when the guards arrived._

_He turned to Brian, ignoring Wiffle in favour of the bigger threat; namely the one with the gun. _

_"Whatever you do, do not shoot." Brian opened his mouth to answer, but the Doctor didn't stick around to let him. By the time the boy was forming his first word he'd hoisted Mr. Jones over his shoulder and was two aisles away, making rapidly for the Tardis. He wished now he'd taken the time to orientate himself before dashing off, (although knowing where he'd parked in the first place might have helped too – hindsight was a glorious thing). _

_He loped around three more corners before sighting the little blue box that was his only constant companion. Unfortunately it seemed like UNIT had spotted it too, if the shouts and the flash of red to his left was anything to go by. Oh, and the bullet that had just whizzed past his ear._

_The Doctor put on a burst of extra speed and flung himself through the – thankfully – open Tardis doors as several more bullets embedded themselves in the surrounding crates. He landed painfully on his hands and knees, Mr. Jones's body probably suffering even more as it slid off his shoulder and thudded onto the grating. The Doctor pushed that to the back of his mind, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself once more against the door, slamming it shut just as the first firearm came into sight. __He turned the little lock with great relish._

_The Doctor breathed a quick sigh of relief, and then made his way to the controls, immediately sending them off into space. He was fairly sure that UNIT wouldn't have been able to get in, but it was better to be safe than get a gun pointed at your head to prove you wrong. It was only when the familiar whirring started up that he allowed himself to address the real problem._

_There was a dead man on his floor. A dead man who wasn't meant to stay dead. It had all become blindingly obvious now: _he_ was the reason Ianto Jones was revived, and chances were he was also how the man ended up getting to the 51__st__ century and becoming a Time Agent. Which was something he wasn't very happy with. He'd never much liked the Time Agency, had tried to shut them down once or twice in fact, with varying degrees of failure. If it wasn't for that damn file that had somehow found its way onto his ship he wouldn't be in this mess. If he hadn't known about the future he wouldn't now be faced with the decision to cause it, or hope for the best._

_The Doctor didn't have much hope left anymore._

_With a final sigh he picked up the mostly naked Mr. Jones – thank god they'd thought to give him underwear even when dead – and heaved him over to the centre of his ship, letting his head loll beneath the little hatch that would change everything. _

_He tried not to think about the risk involved in letting even a small part of the Time Vortex into either of their bodies, not to mention the fact that he'd had no idea if it'd even do what he hoped it would. He tried not to think about what had happened last time at all..._

_The Doctor set his face, thoughts of Timelines and Fixed Points, things that had to happen and things that never should have bringing his mind whirling back into the despair he had been previously sinking into. But he was determined nonetheless to see things through._

_He opened the hatch, and stared into the heart of the Tardis._

DWDWDWDW

_Someone was screaming. The Doctor opened his eyes to try and locate the source, but his vision was filled was gold, even more paths and possibilities than usual flickering past in a never ending torrent of Time. _

_And it hurt._

He _was screaming. But so was…_

_Mr. Jones. The man who was more trouble than, well, everyone else. The Doctor looked down at the man in his arms, and had to contain a small gasp at what he could now see. He wondered why he hadn't seen it before, but the answer was obvious: dead people don't have a future, possible or otherwise. Now Ianto was positively glowing; Timelines twisting and bending in many more ways than should have been possible for a mere human. No one should have that many life changing decisions. The Doctor looked on, following some of the coloured threads with his mind. This life before him was beautiful, but oh so dangerous. He'd never seen anything quite like it; it was exquisite and repulsive at the same time, because amongst the myriad of possible futures for Mr. Jones, very few of them didn't end in the destruction of everything._

_The Time Lord hoped he'd made the right decision._

_But it was too late to back out now, as Ianto's voice had joined his own in a dreadful harmony of pain. The Time Vortex itself poured from the Doctor's body into the younger man's, restarting his organs, sending new life into dead cells, finding and fixing all the damage and imperfections, forcing air through the lungs…_

…_gasping back into life._

DWTWDWTW

"That's…quite a story." Ianto schooled his expression into something he hoped would be considered neutral as the Time Lord looked on curiously, fiddling idly with a dial.

"Yeah." The small voice just about reached his ears, but he wasn't sure he was meant to have heard it. "Be glad; last time I tried something like that I died." The Doctor's eyes briefly clouded over. "Well, sort of. But it didn't go as planned anyway – you ended up with a bit more life than I'd have liked." He scratched his head, actually making his hair neater than it had been before.

Ianto looked on in disbelief. "You haven't even answered my question." Big eyes blinked at him from across the room. "You told me how, not why." But even as the sentence left his lips he realised he already knew.

"I did, did I?" The Doctor paused, the barest hint of a grin visible in the corners of his mouth. "You have to be alive in the 51st century, become a Time Agent: can't do that if you're dead."

Now that Ianto remembered seeing his future in the form of Agent Jones, he realised he'd have to become that future, in order for it to have ever come to pass. It seemed messed up, and all in all completely unnecessary, but apparently that was just how things went.

He shot a small smile across the room. The old man stared sadly back. Ianto sighed; at least he'd finally wrangled an explanation out of him, and as he'd told the story the Last of the Time Lords seemed to have come alive again, however briefly. Ianto swore he'd try and make that happen again, but for now…

"So…can I get some clothes?"

**TBC**

**Honestly I'm not too sure about the end of this chapter; I kept trying to write it in present tense...so any concrit/opinions would be loved. And if you spotted any typos please feel free to tell me and I'll correct them. I hate typos.**

**Hope you enjoyed :)  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**Updates should be once every two weeks for a little while. At least that's the plan.**

**Thanks all for your awesome reviews, alerts, favourites and wonderful patience.**

**I know I keep changing POVs, just go with it please? I should settle down soon :P**

Chapter 23

"_So…can I get some clothes?"_

When Ianto entered the next room, his first thought was that no one could possibly need so many clothes. His second thought was that the Doctor was a cross-dresser, because an alarming amount of what was before him was female apparel.

He blamed Jack for that one, and ignored the way his heart clenched when he did.

The wardrobe was massive, and the Doctor seemed to like showing him around. Ianto looked on, wondering if the older man did this every time someone new came on board, because the motions seemed partially automatic, like a guided tour: but the Time Lord actually smiled as he dashed up the staircase towards the suits and Ianto couldn't help but smile in return, even if he was dying of embarrassment inside. After all, he had just chased another man through an alien ship in _somebody's_ underwear. It certainly wasn't his.

"Did you dress me?" He'd asked after the Doctor had shouted 'Wardrobe' and run off, leaving Ianto no choice but to follow.

The Time Lord had turned back briefly, running an appraising eye over his clothing – or lack of it. "In what?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"You were like that when I found you."

"Oh."

A shout dragged him back to the present. He looked up to see the Doctor leaning over the railing, a far too manic grin on his face: it wasn't real, not by a long stretch. "Did you want clothes?"

"Might be nice." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The Time Lord's head disappeared again. Ianto frowned. A minute later the head reappeared, wearing its own downturned mouth.

"Well come on then!" The Doctor gestured with his cranium, and vanished once more amongst the racks. This time Ianto did roll his eyes then sprinted up the staircase after him, wondering if there was always so much running.

DWTWDWTW

"I can't go back home, can I?"

The Doctor looked up from where he'd been perusing the ties to see Ianto standing in front of the mirror, but not looking at it. Instead he was staring up, apparently at the ceiling but in reality at nothing at all, tears in his eyes.

"No." It had been a statement, not a question, but he'd felt the need to answer anyway. "You're dead."

"Not even to visit?" Ianto turned towards him, face distraught, biting his lip to keep from openly sobbing. He was quite surprised the younger man had managed to keep himself from breaking down so far, and had half expected him to go into shock the minute he woke up. Apparently that wasn't how Mr. Jones did things. Instead he held it all in until a) it disappeared, b) he could digest it a while later in private, when everything had calmed down, or c) the pain overflowed and it spilled out.

This time looked to be a c.

The Doctor had met his type before, knew them well enough to know they didn't like to let it all go, didn't like to lose control. But that was exactly what they ended up doing anyway.

"Not even to visit. You're dead." His words were final.

Ianto clenched his jaw and turned back towards the mirror, straightening the black tie he'd chosen, letting it fall back into place on the black shirt, before he buttoned up the black waistcoat and covered it with a black jacket. The Doctor hadn't even known he'd owned such plain clothes. Apart from the suit's pale grey pinstripes, the entire outfit the younger man had chosen was black. Even the socks.

"No colour?" There was no answer. The Doctor rolled back onto the balls of his feet before landing on his toes again. "You look like you're in mourning."

The second that sentence left his mouth he knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing. Ianto swallowed roughly, before turning to look at him with the saddest eyes the Time Lord had seen since he'd last looked in the mirror.

"I am."

The words cracked as they were pushed past dry lips. If the Doctor had been thinking straight he'd have left things there, maybe left the room even, left the other man to break down in peace. But the Doctor hadn't been thinking straight in quite some time. When he thought about it later he'd pass it off as an effect of absorbing the Time Vortex and nearly dying, even if it had nothing to do with that, and more to do with the fact that he was a broken man now. Honestly he'd been broken for quite some time, but where previously his friends had been holding together the shattered pieces, now there was no one to keep him sane.

"What have you lost?" He'd been aiming for curious, but the bitterness crept into his words; bitterness he'd been fighting to keep down since someone had apparently decided that he was Fate's plaything, able to be moved and manipulated into doing or not doing as someone else dictated. He'd wanted to be left alone, to wander lonely as a cloud amongst the endless stars, to grieve and move on. Instead he was _babysitting. _

It wasn't fair.

Mr. Jones wasn't the one who'd been forced to watch as all his friends and family left him, either as they died or walked off into their owns lives, leaving him for somebody else. Mr. Jones hadn't had to make his last friend forget, and then look into eyes that no longer remembered him…

"Why are _you_ mourning?"

Mr. Jones' eyes met his own.

"I'm dead." The implication was clear: he'd lost _everything_. He was right to be sad.

And then he walked out.

The Doctor watched, and realised that they were _both _broken men.

DWTWDWTW

Ianto wandered the corridors, trying to get his emotions back under control. So far it had proven pretty hopeless; the anger and resentment towards the Doctor that had been building up over the years had finally boiled out, and was now refusing to be patted back down again. Even before he'd met the man he'd disliked him. He'd been jealous in fact: the Doctor was the man Jack wanted, the man the Captain had run away from them for; the man who Ianto knew he could never be. There'd always been stories, and Jack would paint the Doctor as the most wonderful man alive, his eyes filling with love and admiration. Ianto knew he should have understood – Jack looked at the Doctor the same way Gwen looked at Jack, but he'd only wished that that gaze would turn towards _him_ with the same adoration. He wasn't sure it ever had.

Then of course there was the kidnapping – both counts, and stealing Jack away twice; but most of all, Ianto hated the Doctor because he wasn't perfect. The Captain had put the Time Lord on a pedestal, but the Time Lord had quite happily skipped off of it, landed on two feet and gone running away. The Doctor was meant to be the hero, but he hadn't saved them. He hadn't been there when they needed him most. He hadn't saved _him_.

Ianto stopped as a pair of familiar shoes entered his vision. He looked up to see the Doctor leaning in the doorway in front of him.

The Time Lord had spent ages searching for his newest companion, meaning to apologise, but now they were face to face once more he couldn't find the words.

The younger man sighed, turned ninety degrees and slid down the wall. The Doctor followed shortly after, keeping a respectable distance between them.

Ianto watched as he stretched out his sneakered feet, but refused to meet the man's gaze even though he could feel it burning a hole in the fabric of reality.

The Doctor swallowed.

"I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes you did."

There was a pause. The air between them was so thick you could eat it with a spoon; the Doctor had done that once: never again.

"Yes." He exhaled. "But that doesn't mean I was _right_."

"No." Ianto sniffed. Suddenly he turned to the Doctor, eyes pleading once more. "What happened to them?"

The Doctor furrowed his brow, struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Who?"

"My family – my sister and her kids. Gwen and Rhys."

"I don't know, but the gap toothed one had a lovely baby girl."

Ianto suppressed the urge to grit his teeth. He supposed he should have been grateful for even that small bit of information, but it wasn't enough.

"So I'll never find out what happened to them." The Doctor met his gaze, his eyes dark.

"No."

"Can't you look it up? Isn't there some kind of database with-"

"Not that I can access." He looked away from the younger man, no longer wanting to see the anger pooled in the otherwise gorgeous blue eyes. He also didn't want to be called up on lying. It wasn't exactly a lie, per se, but still…

"And you won't go back and find out."

"No. Too risky."

"All we have to do is watch!"

"And once you're there I suppose you'll still be happy to just watch, hmm? You wouldn't be itching to 'just let them know I'm alright', and then you won't want to 'just stay for a bit', eh? No. I've made that mistake enough: nobody can ever just watch."

Ianto shifted, sensing a depth to the Time Lord's words that hadn't previously been there.

"What would you change then?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow. Ianto persisted, feeling his anger waning. "There's obviously something you can't watch without temptation. No consequences. What would you change?"

"Everything. And nothing."

"That's not much of an answer."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence for several minutes, before the Doctor picked up again. He'd been lost in thought, his mind answering Mr. Jones' question even after he'd decided not to. There were many things he'd liked to have done differently; he'd made a lot of decisions in his long life, but most of them seemed to lead back to one thing.

"I'd stop my planet from burning, but the whole universe would pay the price." There was no need to mention the fact that he physically _couldn't_, Time Lock and all.

Ianto blinked; surprised by the answer itself and the fact that he'd got an answer at all. "I'm sorry."

"You weren't the one who destroyed it." The older man swallowed roughly, but continued before the younger could get a word in. "What about you then? What do you want to change?"

"I…" He furrowed his brow. He'd been going to say 'I'd never join Torchwood', but then he'd never have met Lisa, and if he changed trying to save her he'd never have joined Torchwood 3, met Jack…and had his heart broken. But would he actually change that?

'No consequences.' He reminded himself, but now he'd thought about it there wasn't much he'd actually do differently. Without Torchwood his life would have been meaningless.

"I'd stop myself dying." The tense silence they'd just managed to escape captured them again, weaving its fine strands around their heavy limbs. "But then I'd never have met you." He'd thought about it a lot, and although he still wasn't exactly keen on the older man, he'd realised he didn't really hate him. In fact, he rather liked him. It wasn't the Time Lord's fault he'd never been enough for Jack, and he'd stopped believing in heroes a long time ago, no matter what the Captain said.

The Doctor looked around, eyes wide, to see the small sad smile on Ianto's face.

"Oh Mr. Jones," he sighed, even though the edges of his mouth moved to match the other man's expression. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

TWDWTWDW

"So, what now?"

The Doctor looked up at Mr. Jones' question.

"Hmm?" The two of them had come to some kind of truce, at least for the moment. Ianto had stopped demanding to be taken home, and the Doctor had pulled himself out of his protective shell, making an effort to engage in conversations and not be quite so glum.

Ianto rolled his eyes

"What happens to me? I can't go home, so where do I go?"

"Well, I've got to get you to the 51st century, and make you into a corrupt policeman apparently." The Welshman stared. "But first of all I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" Ianto opened his mouth the answer but the Doctor carried on regardless. "And we're out of bread, so we need to go shopping. I'm thinking we'll stop off at Mall IX – the planet, not the city – and get some supplies, or we could get takeaway: Pizza House at the Milky Way Drop Off delivers. Or…oh oh I know! It's summer on Dragllien, we could have a picnic and watch the Southern Lights and…"

Ianto's mouth slowly dropped open as he realised what the Time Lord was offering him: a chance to run away from his so called destiny, at least for a while. He wouldn't be dropped off in the middle of a new century at that moment, not knowing the slightest thing about what it was really like out there. He was being given the opportunity to take a break, grieve, before moving on.

It was the nicest thing that anyone had offered him in a long time.

"So, what do you say?"

Ianto realised the Doctor had been waiting for an answer, possibly for some time judging by the slightly embarrassed look on his face.

He smiled.

"Yes."

They started running. Two weeks later Ianto had stopped looking back.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**So...late again. This chapter was evading me, and the chronolgy (is that a word?) gets rather mixed up, so forgive me and just be aware that at the moment we're just seeing snippets of stuff. Hope it's alright. And thanks all for the wonderful reviews!**

Chapter 24

"So, where to first?" The Doctor asked; face a picture of childish glee. "The whole of time and space at your fingertips. Well, my fingertips, but…"

He trailed off as he noticed that Mr. Jones was grinning at him, rather disconcertingly.

"What?" The Doctor frowned.

"Nothing. Just you."

"Me?"

"No, the other you." Ianto rolled his eyes. "Yes you."

"What about me?"

"You're just…mad."

"Yep." The Doctor popped the 'p' and matched the grin that the Welshman's face seemed loathe to depart with. "So, where do you want to go?"

Ianto thought about it for a minute.

"Everywhere. Not at once though. That would probably be painful."

The Doctor smiled even wider, and rolled his shoulders in preparation for the ride ahead of them.

"Oh I like you already!" He waited for the small smile he got in return before acknowledging the request. "I think that can be arranged, now grab onto something and whatever happens, don't let go!" He didn't even wait to see that his new friend had followed his instructions before slamming his hand down on a particular lever and setting them on course for their first adventure.

He hoped it would be fun.

DWTWDWTW

It had taken Ianto a little while to settle in, but after a few weeks he'd become accustomed to the Doctor's way of living. He'd soon found out it involved lots of running. And apologising. And even more running.

It wasn't that much different from his life at Torchwood, except for the distinct lack of guns, and the fact that instead of working in an underground base for a not so secret organisation and letting the aliens come to them, he was now going_ to_ the aliens by flying around Time and Space in a little blue box. Oh, and he'd swapped an immortal Captain from the future with an attachment to the second world war for the last of the Lord's of Time with two broken hearts who couldn't stop trying to fix people.

But at least the situations he kept finding himself in now were generally more enjoyable.

This however, was not one of them…

Ianto sprinted down the white walled corridor towards the out of place Police Box, thankful his brilliant memory could remember the way back through the maze-like building they'd found themselves in.

"DOCTOR!" He called back over his shoulder.

"RUN!" The Doctor's voice floated the few meters across the gap between them.

"I AM!" He shouted back needlessly.

"GET IN THE TARDIS!"

Ianto attempted to do just that, only to find the door unforgiving under his weight as he slammed into it. He'd had it out with the Doctor recently about the 'PULL TO OPEN' sign on the door, but the Time Lord had insisted it was fine the way it was, and after a few times when hasty retreats had needed to be beaten, he'd come to understand the need for the doors to open inwards.

This time however, that wasn't helping.

"IT'S LOCKED!"

"MOVE OUT THE WAYYYY!"

Ianto dodged just in time as the Doctor collided with the TARDIS door, somehow managing to get the key into the lock at the same time. The door swung open and the two of them stumbled into the ship, the Time Lord making straight for the console. As soon as he'd sent them flying into space and away from the ray guns he turned and grinned at his newest Companion.

"That went well." He got a glare for his efforts.

"Oh yes, because barely escaping with our lives constitutes 'going well'…" The sarcasm dripped off Ianto's voice, ending in a puddle on the floor.

"We survived didn't we?"

"No thanks to you!"

"How was I supposed to know their arms weren't _actually_ their arms?"

"They looked nothing like arms!"

"I was just trying to be _polite_." The Doctor huffed, throwing his arms in the air and doing a rather good impression of a strop.

"Walking up to the first being you see, saying "Hello, I'm the Doctor, and this is Mr. Jones," and then grabbing the nearest limb and pumping it up and down does _not_ count as _polite_." Having finished his sentence, Ianto breathed out heavily, thankful he'd got that out of his system.

The Doctor looked slightly sheepish at that, and started rubbing the back of his head,

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"So next time, no exuberant greetings?" When there was no reply Ianto prompted; "Might save us some trouble. That's the fifth planet we've been kicked off of because of your 'handshake'." He made sure the inverted commas around the last word were audible.

"Oh fine!" The Doctor didn't miss the way Ianto rolled his eyes as he finally conceded, and so he couldn't help adding: "But it was a perfectly good handshake!" Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow. "Or, as the case may be, a 'tongueshake'."

Ianto snorted, and trundled into the room to plonk himself down onto the seats. " On at least twenty-nine planets I'll think you'll find that's something rather…different."

This time it was the Doctor's turn to snort.

"_Humans_."

"This human needs a drink."

"You wouldn't get quite so hot if you wore suitable clothing."

Ianto pointedly looked down at his suit (pale blue shirt instead of black now), and then across to the Doctor's own (the usual brown and blue pinstripe. After his first week Ianto had noticed the Doctor's habit of wearing pretty much the same suit everyday, only to find the man actually had six identical ones in the wardrobe.)

"But I've got _trainers_." The Time Lord lifted waggled his left foot to demonstrate his point. "You're wearing-"

"Dress shoes. What you're supposed to wear with a-"

"Dress?"

"Suit."

"Your suits are black."

"Technically they're your suits, and so?"

"Black holds more heat."

"I survived the last six years in them." The Doctor opened his mouth to retaliate, then thought better and closed it again as Ianto realised what he'd said."Until I died." He added on, unnecessarily.

The Doctor sighed. "Yeah…"

"And I thought death was supposed to give you a different perspective." The attempt at humour fell flat, and the older man looked across at him.

"Maybe it's time to break a habit."

"No." Ianto straightened his already straight tie, wanting to distract himself for the reasoning behind his almost automatic answer. It wasn't that he was particularly attached to the suits, after all these weren't even his own. It was more to do with the fact that they were – for now at least – his only remaining connection to his previous life. They were the mask he'd always worn, even when he didn't need it: protection from a world outside that always thought him too young. And maybe it was because of Jack that he still wore them: what had started out as a way of getting on the Captain's good side had become something a hell of a lot more, no matter how much he hated it now. He couldn't give that up. "Not yet."

The Doctor sighed as his friend drifted off into memories again, and turned his back, leaving him in peace.

A little while later, Ianto spoke up again.

"Why can't they know I'm alive?"

The Doctor blinked, puzzled by the apparently random question.

"What?"

"My family. You say I can't see them because I'm dead, but why can't I be alive?" The Welshman turned round, fixing his piercing gaze on the other man.

"Because history says you died."

"I thought you couldn't access the records."

"I…" The Doctor trailed off, unsure how to say that a mysterious intruder had dumped the records in his ship. If he said that, firstly he'd sound even madder than he already did, but more importantly Mr. Jones would ask to see those records, which included information about his future.

Luckily Ianto had moved on already. "Besides, they can keep a secret. I just want to let them know I'm alright."

The Time Lord sighed. "Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"You keep ending it."

It was true. Although they'd sort of cover the topic, the Doctor would always steer them away before Ianto had time to go over it again. When he'd first met the strange man, back in his old life when he'd suddenly been whisked away by the somehow joyous yet sad, older version of this Doctor, Ianto had pointed out his habit of redirecting conversations. But this time, for some reason he couldn't find the heart to tell him, and so he'd left him to simply bumble on, or would simply bring the topic up again. This was one of the things they'd not talked about too many times.

"I do not," the Doctor protested feebly. "Something just always comes up."

"Well it's not going to this time, is it?"

"We've already covered this: you can't go back, it'll change history!"

"So change history! It'll hardly make a difference!" A stony silence was the only reply. "I don't even have to see them! _You_ can tell them; I just want them to know I'm alright!" Ianto stopped and looked away from the Time Lord's scrutinising gaze as he heard his voice crack, and felt his eyes start to tear up. The next thing he knew there was a pair of solid arms wrapped around him, and his face was buried in a pinstriped shoulder. "I don't-"

"Shush, shhh…it's alright…"

After a minute or two Ianto gave in, wrapped his arms around the other man, and cried for everything he'd ever lost.

DWTWDWTW

"Are all Time Lords trouble magnets?" Mr. Jones randomly asked one day (randomly insofar as they'd just avoided being lynched by yet another alien mob), during a brief respite floating through space.

To his credit the Doctor didn't even bat an eyelid before replying.

"_Were_."

"What?"

"You mean _were_ all Time Lords trouble magnets. Past tense. Only me left." But even though he spoke the words out loud, the echo of a doubt still lingered in his mind, and it sounded remarkably like a drumbeat.

"Oh."

"Yeah, well. Anyway, but no, just me: _trouble magnet_." He took great pleasure in tutting the last 't'. "Well, a few others, but mostly just me. The renegade I was. Rebel." He rolled his 'r's and grinned cheekily at his Companion, who simply rolled his eyes in response and muttered something sounding suspiciously like 'I can imagine' under his breath. "What was that?" The Last Time Lord asked, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing." Ianto replied with a matching grin, and the Doctor's own deepened.

He'd found he'd perked up a lot over the last month, and he couldn't deny that it had something to do with Mr. Jones. The man was just…amusing. First of all there was the accent. The Doctor had always loved the Welsh accent, and coupled with Ianto's dry wit he'd often found himself laughing uproariously as the Welshman stared at him, bemused. Then there was the fact the other man always kept him on his toes; one moment he was silently slinking around the Tardis (the Doctor was fairly sure his ship was conspiring with Mr. Jones, especially when he managed to get lost on his way to the bathroom one too many times), the next moment he was flashing that cheeky little smile at him, demanding to be taken somewhere new. And sometimes he still moped. Those times were getting fewer and further between, though when they did happen they grated on the Doctor's nerves. They reminded him that none of this was his choice; however he'd started to enjoy looking after a man kicked out of his Time. It was nice, having someone new on board. He'd sworn off it after Donna but he'd forgotten just how much _fun_ could be had. Ianto Jones wasn't the kind of person the Doctor usually liked to take on board – much too comfortable with a gun for one – but he'd become something so much more.

A Companion, a friend, and although he was broken he was slowly healing, patching up his two-hearted guardian along the way.

He made the ancient man feel _alive_ again.

And the Doctor loved it.

**TBC**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews, sorry if I haven't had time to reply.**

**Well, another flashback, but this one's just for fun. Sorry once again this is late – I was trying to combine it with the next chapter to give you all a super update but it didn't work out, but the next chapter already has 1000 words written so it should be up sooner than two weeks (unless these next few exams kill me, which is quite likely). Anyway, I'll let you read now :p**

Chapter 25

Ianto's fiftieth trip in the Tardis had been interesting to say the least. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately, he'd been so concussed he didn't actually remember much of it.

They'd gone back in time; that much he knew, to somewhere in the early 1800s – but without the dark ages the technology was similar to 'present day' Earth's – on a planet named something completely unpronounceable. Ianto had rushed out of the Tardis, anxious to see his first alien planet, and consequently tripped over his own feet and fallen face first into the equivalent of a parking metre. Suffice to say the parking metre had not been happy, and had promptly arrested him for assault.

Then things got fuzzy…

_The Doctor groaned as he watched Mr. Jones being handcuffed by the local policeman, who was doubling up as some sort of traffic metre. This was _so_ not what he needed. _

_Mr. Jones himself wasn't being particularly helpful, letting himself being dragged off semi-conscious to goodness knows where. _Very_ unhelpful if you asked the Time Lord. Which of course no one did._

_So now he'd just have to step in and save his foolish new friend._

_DWTWDWTW_

_Ianto groaned as he woke up, wondering why he felt like he'd been drinking for at least a week, and pondering why Jack had let him get that hammered. He squinted up at the ceiling; it was a grotesque green colour, with pieces of what appeared to be string trailing from it. He was fairly sure he didn't recognise it anyway; the Welshman had a pretty extensive ceiling catalogue (very useful after being knocked out or drinking oneself unconscious, it was always good to know what to expect when waking up, whether it be an amused Captain or a pissed off college mate). This ceiling had not been encountered before._

"_Where am I?" He asked the world in general._

"_Yhruggfthiero." The world in general answered, with a voice suspiciously like a certain Time Lord's. "We're in prison, well technically it's a confinement cell, but that basically boils down to the same thing really, they just call it that so you don't feel so bad."_

"_Doctor?" He croaked out, as reality – what was left of it – bowled him over. Again._

"_Yes, that's me."_

_Ianto groaned again at the other man's exuberant reaction._

"_Talk quieter. Head hurts."_

"_Oh, right, sorry." The voice lowered by about point zero two of a decibel. A brief amount of silence followed. "So, now you're awake, how do you feel about getting out of here?"_

"_Ugg." Ianto replied._

"_Ugg?" The Doctor frowned at his Companion's lack of enthusiasm. "Come on Mr. Jones; your first jailbreak, what could be more exciting?"_

_Ianto sat up, and stared._

"_Jail?"_

"_Haven't you been listening?" The Doctor chided. "You assaulted a government official, and are currently awaiting sentencing – no such thing as trials here – after which you'll probably be executed."_

"_Jailbreak it is."_

_His fears somewhat allayed, Ianto sat up and looked around properly for the first time, but there honestly wasn't much to assess. Everywhere was painted the same disgusting green colour, which he was fairly sure was to persuade the inmates that they really didn't want to spend anymore time in such a cell if necessary. A rather good crime deterrent. The only break from the ghastly shade was the door, which was a much nicer lemon yellow._

"_So, plan?" he asked._

"_I'm, err, getting there," came the hesitant reply from the cross legged man on the floor next to him. Ianto couldn't resist a groan at that._

"Brilliant._"_

"_Oi, I said I'm getting there!"_

"_I don't want to be getting there! I want to be getting _out_! You just told me they're going to kill is!"_

"_Actually, just you…but I probably shouldn't have mentioned that…" Ianto turned his suddenly panicked gaze on the Doctor, who immediately turned on his reassuring mode. "We are getting out of here, okay? Trust me." Ianto felt like pointing out that he didn't really have much choice in the matter, but decided not to say anything. "In fact, we're getting out right now."_

_They both turned as the door clicked, a sure sign that it was about to be opened from the other side._

"_What's the plan?" the Welshman whispered, as their prison was slowly breached._

_The Doctor grinned at him manically. "What else but…RUN!"_

_And they were off._

_Ianto didn't bother to spare a thought for the poor guard the two of them had just barrelled past and how the poor green furry creature would probably be punished for letting them escape. Because honestly, these people were going to _kill him_ and his head _really hurt_!_

_Although to be honest there weren't all that many thoughts going through the young man's head except '_owww…'_ and he simply trusted his feet to keep following the Doctor no matter what._

_Which was why, when the Doctor stopped, he collided straight into his back._

"_Oof!"_

"_Agg-"_

"_SHUSH!" The Doctor hissed urgently, and pulled him back behind a handy cupboard, out of the way of the two guards who's just turned the corner._

_Ianto raised an eyebrow, and then groaned as he made a mental note not to do that again with a concussion._

_The Doctor put his finger to his lips before creeping out of their hiding place (once the guards had passed) and gesturing for him to follow._

_DWTWDWTW_

"_Did you fall over a government official too?" Ianto finally broke about half an hour's worth of silence; or at least that was how long it felt like they'd been scuttling around the base, avoiding the patrols and looking for the exit. He found it slightly bizarre that some kind of alarm hadn't been sounded, but maybe the guard hadn't wanted to alert his (or her, or its) superiors to his (or her, or its) incompetence._

"_Hmm? What? No, course not."_

_Ianto raised an eyebrow – just a tiny bit though, so it didn't hurt so much. "So what are you doing here then?"_

"_Rescuing you of course."_

"_Really? It kind of looked like you'd been arrested too; what with you being in the cell and all."_

_The Doctor suddenly looked sheepish. "I, ahh, umm…" he trailed off. "It doesn't _really_ matter, does it?"_

"_Avoiding the question are we?" Ianto smirked. "C'mon Doctor; it can't be as bad as falling over an alien parking meter."_

"_I think there's an exit right about…ahah! Here we go!"_

_Ianto rolled his eyes as the Time Lord changed the topic, but simply changed it back. "Tell me, or I'll bug you forever."_

_The Doctor paused outside a door surprisingly marked 'Exit', and appeared to consider the proposal (threat). "Tongue-shaking." And with that he pulled open the door, pushed Ianto through it, and yelled "RUN!" over the sudden wail of a claxon._

_Ianto turned back to see the Doctor a few metres behind, being pursued by some rather aggressive looking humanoids in black leather and motor biking helmets._

"_What the hell are they?" He called back, eyes returning to the path in front of him, which was covered in small purple flowers._

"_Slabs!" came the reply._

"_What's a slab?"_

"_Not nice!"_

_Ianto kept running, and breathed a sigh a relief when the Tardis finally came into view in the alien parking lot they seemed to be in. It looked rather ridiculous next to all the flash spaceships and hovercrafts, but Ianto wasn't complaining – the Time Lord's ship was bigger on the inside after all._

_He reached the doors and burst through – thankfully they were unlocked this time – with the Doctor hot on his heels._

"_Tongue-shaking? Again?" He asked as soon as the doors were closed and they were safe inside. And once he'd got his breath back._

_The Doctor refused to look at him as he fiddled with something on the console. "Not that kind of tongue-shaking."_

"_What? Oh…_oh_…" Ianto choked as he finally got the implication. "You got arrested for snogging?"_

_At the lack of reply he burst out into laughing._

_Then he passed out._

DWTWDWTW

In his fifth week Ianto couldn't stand it any longer.

"How can you not like coffee?" He'd been forced to live the entire time so far on one meagre bag of coffee beans he'd found which he'd been rationing over the weeks to last longer. It wasn't ideal, but he always forgot to ask the Time Lord for more beans, and he got a regular caffeine fix from the energy drinks he made sure to pick up whenever they were off-world. Which was only when they weren't saving worlds or being pursued by angry mobs: i.e. not very often.

The Doctor looked up from his copy of _Universe Weekly_ at the exclamation and took off his glasses, twiddling them between his thumb and forefinger. Something the Welshman had noticed he did a lot for no apparent reason.

"It just tastes…_gritty._" He made a face at the thought.

"Gritty?" Ianto asked incredulously, bowled over by what he would almost consider sacrilege. "You think it tastes…_gritty?_"

"Hmm, I've never understood your species' fondness for it." Ianto glared at him as he spoke.

"Kitchen, now."

A few minutes later the Time Lord was sat at the kitchen table, looking very much like a school boy being taught a lesson after saying something silly (which was essentially what was happening). He growled at the cup of coffee in front of him as Mr. Jones smirked from across the table, unwilling to admit that the drink tasted a damn sight better than he was used to.

"So…what's the verdict?"

"It's…fine."

Ianto rolled his eyes at the Doctor's petulant response.

"It's better than fine."

"It's better than fine." The older man repeated, forcing the words through his clenched teeth.

"I'd go as far as saying it's the best coffee you've ever had."

"I still prefer tea." The Doctor looked up to see his Companion staring at him, horrified. Silence stretched on between them, the air taught like a bow string, waiting to be set off to let the arrow hit the target.

"You're nuts." _Thunk _went the arrow. The Doctor grinned.

"I know; isn't it brilliant!"

Ianto smiled back, and made a mental note to pick up some nicer tea bags than the ones they currently had. If his friend was going to live in denial he was going to bloody well enjoy it while he had the chance.

DWTWDWTW

"What's this one called then?" Ianto asked as he followed the Doctor around the alien planet. The Time Lord paused in his wandering and turned back to look at him.

"What's what called?"

"The planet…"

"Oh, right, yes: 169872."

Ianto blinked.

"Pardon?"

"169872."

"That's…wrong."

The Doctor shrugged.

"There are only so many planets you can name before you run out of alphabet."

"Not if you're a Dsfraggigon." Ianto thought back to the last planet they'd visited, where the alphabet had contained over 3000 letters, and the 'people' had rather sharp pitchforks.

"Luckily most of us aren't."

"They had very good dental hygiene."

"They had _fangs_!" The Doctor's eyes widened comically.

"Well-cleaned fangs." Ianto retorted. "Which is more than I can say for most of the species I've met."

"Blimey you're fussy! I show you the universe and you complain about their _fillings_! You're still upset about that Roxis."

"Its teeth were rotting. In its mouth."

"You shouldn't have kissed it then."

"It kissed me!"

"You kissed back."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did-urgh! You could keep that up all day couldn't you?"

The Doctor grinned in response.

"Yep."

"Fine. I give up."

The grin changed to a pout.

"Spoilsport."

Within the next two hours they had some tea and scones, prevented a nuclear disaster, and did an awful lot of running.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thanks for all the reviews, sorry if I didnt reply but ff being really funny about that at the moment :( But it's wonderful to know that you're enjoying this :)**

**I've kind of mashed together the science of the Butterfly Effect with its interpretation in popular culture. But hey, that's fiction for you :P**

Chapter 26

Ianto couldn't help but notice after a few months that the Doctor never took him to places near the 21st century when they visited Earth; mostly they avoided the planet althogether. When they did go though and seemed to be favouring the late 40th centuries in particular. The reason was obvious, but he didn't like to think about it. The Time Lord had never brought up the subject of his departure, and he was more than happy to ignore it himself.

And then they saw Jack.

TWDWTWDW

The suns shone down on the small world the Doctor had landed them on; a little city on Rexa Major called Salami.

"Salami? Seriously?"

"Yeah, not as exciting as it sounds, I'm afraid it's mostly brothels and public houses here, but I'm picking up some strange energy readings that we _really_ ought to check out."

Ianto swallowed. "Uh oh."

The Doctor looked over at him, wide eyed. "Hmm?"

"Last time you said that we almost died."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose, trying to recall that particular instance to mind. "Ummm…"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "The malfunctioning sonic-laser cannon?" he prompted. He still didn't understand how something could be both sonic _and_ laser, but the Doctor had been too busy cooing over the thing trying to get it to not blow up to pay much attention.

"Ah yes, that one."

They continued on, further into the city. Although he'd been travelling with the Doctor for quite a while now, he still marvelled at the aliens all around him. Sure, on most worlds they visited the humans outnumbered them, or at least humanoid creatures – his race had apparently done so much dancing across the universe that at some points pure humans were extremely rare – but dotted amongst them were always a mixture of other races. He'd tried to keep count, making records of all the species he'd come across, both in their travels and before; he'd done quite a good job, especially with the help of the Doctor, but there were still thousands of species he'd never even heard of.

The Time Lord had his head down, studying the small tracking device he apparently trusted – Ianto didn't – but somehow was managing to not walk into anyone/thing, so the younger man was free to look around and attempt to catalogue more species as they moved around.

They reached the main road and Ianto noted that every other shop was indeed a public house and every third was a brothel. He supposed that the city was more of a way station for travellers than an actual city; he doubted anyone would want to stay longer than a few nights.

An alien he didn't recognise walked past - it looked rather like a two legged guinea pig in leather - and he turned to ask the Doctor what it was, only to find the Doctor had completely vanished.

"Brilliant!" Ianto muttered under his breath. "Just brilliant!"

He jogged quickly around the corner, soon determining that either his friend had become invisible, else had ducked into one of the fine establishments on offer.

He spent a few minutes alternating between peering through the windows – something he regretted after witnessing things even Owen would find gross (and Owen laughed at dissecting alien faeces) – and peeking around the doors. He finally found the Doctor standing stock still in the middle of one of the less gloomy pubs, head down, studying the tracking device, oblivious to anything else around him. Ianto sighed and walked over, taking his chance to catalogue the room. He paused next to his friend and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so the Doctor tensed: his head shot up and he looked straight across the room to a part Ianto hadn't studied yet. Ianto followed his gaze, and gasped.

"_Jack."_

There he was, sitting at the bar with about six empty shot glasses lined up in front of him. There was no mistaking him, even sans the coat. He looked over, met Ianto's eyes and any doubts Ianto might have had about twin brothers were immediately allayed.

He'd seen those eyes too many times; got lost in their depths on numerous occasions. They were the last things he'd seen before he'd woken up dead. Ianto doubted he could ever forget those eyes.

Jack stared back at him for a few moments; he was too far away to see properly but Ianto thought he'd seen him flinch slightly. After a couple of seconds he made as if to stand up, then stopped and sat back down again, a look of anger and frustration taking over his face. As Ianto watched on, the Captain turned away, and ordered another drink.

He opened his mouth to call out but suddenly his arm was being grabbed and he was hauled from the room, stumbling over his own feet in the Doctor's haste.

They stopped outside a liquor store on the other side of the street, both panting from a mixture of shock, grief and adrenaline.

"What happened to him?" He'd expected Jack to be sad, but there was no way the man had fled Earth to numb the pain solely because of _him_, as much as he'd sort of (selfishly) like it to be.

The Doctor refused to meet his gaze. "Maybe that isn't your Timeline's Jack."

"Yes it is." The reply was off his lips before he could stop it, but somehow he just knew it was true. There had been recognition in those eyes, raw hurt and despair before he'd looked away, as if unable to look anymore. As if the sight burned his eyes. He'd probably thought he was hallucinating. "Don't lie to me Doctor. I know you know." He glared at the Doctor. "Tell me."

The Doctor licked his lips nervously, leant against the shop wall to look out at the world, and sighed. "After all the...after you…" _died _went unsaid, "he didn't have all that much left, and then he had to…" he stopped, as if trying to phrase it in such a way that wouldn't sound so bad. He sighed, and continued on, tone resigned. "To stop the 456 they had to use a child. A human child"

Suddenly Ianto could see where this was going. He'd seen Jack do it before, putting the masses before one, but this time was different somehow. "His grandson was nearest."

It all slotted into place. "Stephen."

"Yeah…I'm sure you can guess what happened next. His daughter hated him, Gwen had her own family, and he couldn't bear to stay so…"

"He ran away. He always runs away."

"It's what we do best." The Doctor turned to face him briefly, and an echo of the same pain he'd seen in Jack's eyes was present.

Ianto felt like he should empathise; he couldn't imagine what killing your own grandson would do to any sane person, but he couldn't stop thinking about how his Captain had turned away from him back at the bar; refused to believe that what he was seeing was real. He knew how unlikely it was; being brought back to life by the Doctor and happening to run into his old boss. He could understand why a man like Jack would doubt his sanity in that situation, but still…he'd hoped the Immortal would have fought for him, would have at least_ checked_.

Didn't Jack _want_ him to be alive?

He turned to mirror the Doctor's position against the wall, staring out past the people walking by to the tavern on the other side of the road which held a piece of his heart.

"He promised me he'd remember, and now he's trying to forget."

"He's hurting." Ianto wondered why the Doctor was trying to defend someone he had so many problems with. He supposed he felt sorry for him.

"So am I."

There was silence for a few minutes as both men tried to collect themselves for whatever would happen next.

"I'm sorry."

Ianto sighed, "Yeah, me too."

After a few more minutes the Doctor sighed as well, held out his hand and wiggled his fingers at him. "C'mon, let's go home."

Ianto's heart stuttered to a stop once again, the Doctor's choice of words grating against the hole there that had once again been ripped open. _Home. _It wasn't fair; the wound had just been healing over: he could only hope it would heal quicker a second time.

And in any case it wasn't the Doctor's fault; he'd only tried to fix him. It wasn't his fault he was unfixable. He was grateful for everything the other man had done for him, and he wasn't going to allow Jack to take that away from him anymore.

So he flashed the Doctor a small smile, took his hand, and let himself be taken back to the Tardis.

TWDWTWDW

After that, no matter how grateful he was, Ianto decided there was no way he was actually going to become a Time Agent: paradoxes be damned! He couldn't do it, not if it meant seeing Jack again; he wasn't sure he could cope. The Doctor was always telling him that he universe was so complicated and mysterious, so surely it could figure a way around the problem he would apparently cause?

Ianto had always had a problem with Time Travel, namely because of the way he thought about life, the universe and everything. Working for Torchwood had made him realise that every little thing he did impacted the future; every decision he made had particular consequences; every shot he fired could change the world.

It had hit him one day, as he held a little boy's hand as it slowly grew limp in his own. Car accident, of all things. The ambulance couldn't get through because someone had spray painted over a traffic light, jamming up the roads between. Ianto had sat there, helplessly, wishing he had with him Item 3DXJ from the Archives, which he'd packed away a minute before popping across the road he was now sitting on to get some doughnuts. He'd thought Tosh looked a bit down, and Jack always amused him by trying to eat the sugared ones without licking his lips. He'd told him repeatedly that using someone else's lips was cheating, but really he didn't mind.

Item 3DXJ could hold living matter in stasis for five minutes, not long enough to be classified as life saving technology, except when the ambulance arrived four minutes after the boy's last breath.

All the small things that could change everything.

A childish dare to spray the lights cost that boy his life, and Ianto made much bigger decisions every day. How many people had he killed without realising?

_Does the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? _

The Butterfly Effect: somewhere a butterfly flaps its wings and causes a chain of events that kickstart something much bigger.

So what happens if you go back in time and step on that butterfly? What about all the little things you change? Surely even just by being in the past you'd risk destroying your present?

The universe would be a right mess if that was the case. In conclusion, as the universe hadn't fallen apart, Time Travel shouldn't be possible. He'd once been told that if it was possible to go back in time and kill Hitler, someone would have done it already, and they wouldn't be having this conversation.

The only problem was that he already knew that Time Travel was possible – Torchwood had documented it, Jack had experienced it first hand, possibly even made a living out of it once; and if that wasn't proof enough, he was now travelling in time in a 1960s Police Call Box.

After many theories, and nights spent pouring over books on stuff he really didn't understand, he'd stopped, and taken a step back. And eventually, all he'd learnt about the Doctor lead him to the conclusion that the Universe was much more resilient than everyone gave it credit, and if the Time Lord had somehow managed not to rip a hole in Time and Space, then surely Time and Space could look after itself.

Maybe you could go back in time and kill Hitler; just no one had succeeded yet.

So Ianto had come up with a plan; a very cunning and clever plan that the Doctor would certainly not like. Which was why he didn't know. If he did…the Welshman was fairly sure the older man would have no problem chucking him out of the ship, even if they were in the middle of space at the time.

Ianto was going home, and the Universe could find another way to invent Agent Jones.

He watched as the Doctor sent them once more into the breach, taking care to note exactly which buttons were pushed, which dials were twisted, which levers were pounded by mallets and hammers…he knew the Doctor wasn't going to take him home – they'd had that conversation for the last time by now – so he'd just have to take himself.

DWTWDWTW

"What does that button do?"

"That one?"

"Yup."

"Oh, this and that," the Doctor fondled one ear as he spoke. "It's mostly just for decoration."

Ianto blinked, then walked away to find something else to do. This was going to take longer than he thought.

TBC

**The italicised bit about the butterfly effect is from when the theory (the science one) was first being broached, Edward Lorenz who was giving the talk couldn't think of a title, and so Philip Merilees gave it that statement as it's title. This was because the example for the idea was that something like the flap of a butterflies wings could eventually influence weather patterns. This is where the effect gets its name from. (If this is wrong, blame wikipedia.)** **It makes for some interesting if intense reading.**


	27. Chapter 27

**So, firsly sorry about the delay; I was trying to get to a certain point for the end of this chapter but it took longer than I expected to get there. And I'm on holiday for the next few weeks, so the next chapter will be at least two weeks away, but I'll try to make it a good size.**

**Second (if you haven't already skipped this; I would have), mega thanks to Pernica, rupzydaisy and Orion Lyonesse for the reviews, and to everyone who's alerted/favourited/even just read. Corny, but it really does make my day :D**

**Self-beta'd (is that an oxymoron?) so please do point out any errors that need a-fixing.  
**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 27

For once the Doctor had brought them near to the 21st century – if they spent too much time around the 51st Ianto would end up bumping into himself eventually, and after half a year spent travelling together they'd visited rather a lot of places. However, the younger man was disappointed to notice that it was the late _23__rd_ century, _very late_, so there was no chance of meeting anyone he knew (except Jack of course, but the Doctor's immortal sense usually got tingling before he was in sight).

Ianto looked around at the lavish rooms they were in, staring at the electronic streamers that seemed to cover every corner. The room appeared to be a sort of cathedral, bedecked out in splendour for some high profile event or other. There was a band playing in the background, although he couldn't spot them between the crowds, but he found himself swaying slightly to the song, which appeared to be a careful mixture of Beethoven and Sinatra. He wouldn't have thought it would work, but somehow it did.

As usual however, it wasn't the setting that captured his attention; it was the people.

"Wow…" the small exclamation escaped the not-quite-Welsh lips.

"Quite something, aren't they?" The Doctor moved around and grinned at him, long since used to his Companion's fascination with the various inhabitants of wherever they went. He knew that even when they were human his young friend would be enthralled by them. In fact, Ianto was even more spellbound by the humans, studying the way they'd changed over the centuries, measuring evolution and technological advancement and comparing them to his own time – or the early 21st century as he'd trecherously started thinking of it; he wasn't sure if he still had an Own Time.

And although they were just the same (en mass, not individually) as all the other humans the Doctor had ever met, he found himself once more being drawn in, because they were so _full of life_.

People swirled around the dance floor, dancing in pairs and threes, groups and by themselves, all doing different steps that somehow fit together to the same music.

Ianto found himself captivated by the colours: a deep red feather on a ladies' hat, a subtle pink of an old man's blush as he was kissed in public, the emerald green of a netted glove, the familiar blue of a nurses' uniform…

Ianto blinked, and stared, his mouth gradually falling open as he actually looked at the people's outfits. There was a French maid to his right, moving against someone covered entirely with UV body paint. To his left a Victorian ball gown waltzed with a jester whilst Freddie Flintstone looked on in envy.

He turned to the Doctor, who was still caught up in the delight emanating from the display before them.

"You've brought me to a fancy dress party?" Ianto asked incredulously, knocking the older man out of his thoughts.

"It's not fancy dress! It's formal wear!" the Doctor protested, but he wasn't really irritated by his Companion's ignorance, that just made everything more _fun_.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "It certainly looks like fancy dress to me."

"Yeah, well," the Time Lord rolled his shoulders before straightening up to his full height to give his explanation a greater effect. "Formal wear undergoes some radical changes during this period for about, oh, six months…never did find out why…"

"So, fancy dress party?"

The older man winced. "Basically."

"What's it for?"

The Doctor looked back around from where he'd started turning towards the buffet tables. "What's what for?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. "The party…"

"Oh yes, _that_. It's a celebration of the Queen's hundredth birthday." He moved off again only to be stopped once again by Mr. Jones. Usually he found the prodding endearing, but when there was food to be had…

"Which Queen?"

"Honestly, so many questions! Liz the third, forth maybe?"

The Welshman frowned, trying to remember what little he'd discovered about the ruling family through the ages. "I thought Elizabeth the forth was the alien imposter?"

"In that case, definitely number three. This one's human last time I, err, checked."

Ianto bit back a snigger; it had become rather a running joke between the two men how the Doctor seemed to pick up a girlfriend on almost every planet they went to, and how Royalty in particular seemed to either fall at his feet or banish him to some ghastly place. Their own Royal family didn't appear to be immune unfortunately. Even when they were almost one hundred years old…

"Hasn't she popped it yet?"

"God no, she's got a good few decades left yet. Then she gets killed by a janitor who's actually her first husband who thought she was her mother who was secretly his lover."

Ianto blinked, and quickly got the conversation back on track: as much as a spot of Palace murder usually intrigued him, he knew if he got distracted they'd most likely end up in prison again. Not that that wouldn't happen anyway.

"So basically we're crashing the Queen's fancy dress party?"

The Doctor grinned. "Actually,_ I_ was invited."

Ianto rolled his eyes again. "Of course you were."

The Doctor stared, wondering when he'd become so untrustworthy. "No really, I was, see look!" At Mr. Jones' disbelieving expression he pulled out a piece of non-physic paper and waggled it until it was taken from his grasp.

Ianto stared for a few minutes. "The Doctor, plus one." He read out from the card. "Does that make me your date?"

"What? Nonononono, god _no_!" he burst out, before suddenly realising how that might have sounded and backtracking slightly. "No offence meant, I mean not that you're not nice or good looking, 'cause you are, but I…

Ianto struggled to bite back a smirk. "Good looking?"

"I…I meant from an objective point of _view_ of course!" He attempted to clarify with numerous pointless hand gestures. "Not that I'm saying that I think you're ugly, you're not, but I was just considering the opinion of…erm…others…"

The younger man raised an eyebrow as the elder stuttered to a stop. "It's nice to know you find me attractive Doc."

The Doctor blinked, wondering how he'd got into this mess. "That's not-" he cut off again as the lips opposite his quivered before bursting out into laughter. "Oi, that's not funny!" he berated, but the next second he was laughing too. "Insufferable you are! Almost as bad as Captain-" he caught himself just in time, "Nelson. Captain Nelson." He licked his lips and ran a hand up the back of his head; he knew the younger man had noticed his slip up, but he seemed content to let it lie. "Come on then, let's join this party."

The Time Lord grabbed Ianto's hand, and finally made it to the buffet table.

DWTWDWTW

Despite the differences, the evening progressed much as one might expect from a high society gathering, even when the society was dressed in mankinis (the Doctor and Ianto had both winced at that one), and overall the people made for quite an inviting if motley crew.

"Won't we stick out?" Ianto asked as he finally dragged the other man away from the rapidly declining pile of strawberries. (Apparently strawberries were now a delicacy on Earth; strange how things changed.) "We aren't exactly in costume after all."

"Sure we are; early 21st century business men. Or strippers."

Ianto promptly choked on his not-champagne. "Str…" He couldn't bring himself to repeat the word, but the Time Lord picked it up anyway.

"Yes Mr. Jones," he smirked, an expression his face hadn't made in a long time. "_Strippers_." He rolled the word around his mouth, taking in the look on his friend's face with great glee before flouncing off to join a female Elvis in the Charleston.

Ianto stared after him, wide eyed and low jawed. It seemed the longer he was around the Doctor the more he seemed to be surprised by him. When he had finally regained control of his muscles again he formed his face back into its normal blank mask and walked off to find someone to talk to.

He eventually found his way back to an army general he'd met earlier ("General Gustav-Morgan, and who might you be?" he'd introduced himself with a wink and a leer), who claimed to have lived through the entire 20th century onwards so far, even though he was obviously early 40s at the very latest, and was departing his knowledge about the era to the passing guests (most of whom were passing by _very _quickly). Despite being aware that there were many races and individuals who could have accomplished such a feat, this was obviously not one of them. A fraud, but a very amusing one: Ianto was fairly sure he hadn't even bothered to do any research as most of the stuff he came out with was so ludicrous not even the non-time travellers among them could be in any doubt about their validity. Even so, it was highly entertaining to listen to the man, who seemed thrilled to have found a willing audience.

"Back in the 21st century the cars were constructed with plywood, and powered by hamsters!" The General confided in him, whilst the younger man suppressed a snigger and wondered if people really believed they'd been that backwards in the past. Outwardly he hummed to indicate his continued interest. "And they only moved at one-tenth of walking pace! Pointless if you ask me!"

Ianto found himself nodding along; after all in rush hour it was better to walk as the transport was often stuck in the same place for several hours on certain roads. So he'd got that one partially right at least. Half a point to the mad hatter.

"Very pointless," another gentleman agreed, having just joined the conversation. Ianto looked him over, but didn't bother with subtlety as the other man was doing exactly the same thing. (Apparently the  
whole checking people out thing had become widely acceptable now, even among the upper classes. Ianto was used to it anyway, having spent so much time in the 4 and 5th millenniums.) The man was youngish, around his late 30s by his looks, and dressed as a 1900s gentleman adventurer. His slicked back dark hair gave him a rather cocky look, but luckily he was handsome in a severe, almost disdainful kind of way. And yes, it is perfectly possible to be disdainfully handsome.

They finished sizing each other up, and the man, having decided Ianto was worth attention, stalked around the still talking loon to introduce himself.

"Haven't seen you around here before; I'm Professor Theodore Shrewling."

"Mr. Jones. Pleasure to meet you; I haven't been to this sort of thing before."

"Oh really?" If Shrewling found it weird he'd only given one name he didn't comment, even though Ianto himself was unsure why he did it. He had always rolled his eyes when the doc introduced him as Mr. Jones, but whenever he was given the opportunity to introduce himself properly he didn't take it. But he didn't dwell on that as the other man carried on. "Then what may I ask has brought you here?"

"I'm accompanying a...umm...friend." He found it strange that even after all these months he still didn't quite know what his relationship with the Doctor was. He knew they were friends, pretty sure at least, but there was so much neither of them talked to the other about, _couldn't_ talk to the other about, that they still hardly knew each other apart from what they've been told or gleaned. And they'd certainly never had a normal conversation, (although those were boring anyway). But most importantly Ianto was sneaking around behind the other man's back, attempting to betray him by getting home.

He idly wondered if he was destined to betray his saviours, or if it was just a personality flaw.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Shrewling's next words, but he struggled for a second to remember they were talking about his presence here with the very man who had saved him the second time.

"Ah right. Is this friend someone I would know?"

Ianto scrunched up his forehead for a second and glanced around to see if he could spot his missing companion. He couldn't. "Possibly. When he finally reappears I'll introduce you."

"He's left a gorgeous thing like you by himself? Shame on him!"

Ianto barely managed to suppress a wince at the blatant come-on, but luckily he was saved from having to answer as the good General had realised he no longer had their attention and so tried to get it back.

"People kept mice as pets!" The supposedly ancient man blurted out. There was a gasp from an older lady who had suddenly appeared at Ianto's left. She was grey-haired, big chested and covered in glittery silks.

"That's horrific!" She cried, her voice unexpectedly deep. "And mice being so intelligent and all!"

"Oh I know m'dear. They were barbarians back then!" Shrewling commented, before turning back to him. "Jonesy, this is Dr. Henry Layafette. Henry, this is Mr. Jones."

"How do you do?" Henry extended a hand as Ianto suddenly realised why 'her' voice was rather masculine, and promptly forgot about being called 'Jonesy'. He refrained from bursting out '_You're a man!'_ and instead reached for the offered hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Henry purred and fluttered his ridiculously long false eyelashes at him. "Ooh, such a gentleman!" He whimpered and turned to the Professor, "Can I keep him? Please?"

"Hands off old boy, I found him first!"

It would have seemed like a joke apart from the predatory way Shrewling was eyeing him up and the alarming gleam in Henry's eyes. So the transvestite's next words set alarm bells ringing.

"Perhaps we could share?" And the conversation quickly deteriorated into the benefits of a threesome.

Ianto stared, and wondered when he'd put himself up for this. In hindsight, kissing Dr. Layafette's hand didn't seem like such a good idea.

He quickly turned back to the mad General for some help, only to find the man halfway across the room being dragged out by security. Ianto cursed under his breath, and glanced back to his two newest 'friends' to see if he could sneak away. Unfortunately they had edged even closer, and belatedly Ianto realised that they were actually escorting him towards the nearest door.

"So, what do you say sweetcheeks?"

Somewhere in the universe a goldfish sued as Ianto did an unendorsed impression.

"I…umm…I think the General needs some help."

Shrewling gave a cursory look, strategically placing a hand on the Welshman's arm in order to peer around him. "Oh nonsense! Old Gustav will be tying _them_ up in a few minutes. He'll be back soon enough." The man grinned before suddenly thinking of something. "Why? Did you want him to join us?"

Ianto's eyes widened comically. "Oh god no." The words slipped past his lips before he was able to stop them, but luckily (unluckily) the other two didn't seem to mind.

"Good good," Henry whispered in his ear as Ianto suddenly found the other man's face rather too close for comfort, "We don't want to wait…"

And just as he thought he was doomed another hand grabbed his arm and twirled him away until he was pressed against a very familiarly suited man.

"Sorry boys, this one's mine." The English accent rang out; a symphony to Welsh ears. "And I'm rather attached to him."

Ianto barely heard the bumbling excuses; instead he focused on the blue and brown pinstripe beneath his cheek, and the gentle breathing of the man in whose arms he was now wrapped. It was quite calming; he'd forgotten just how good relaxing against someone felt, trusting the other person to keep you safe and secure or maybe just upright. For the first time in a long time he could just let go and _feel_ again.

Nothing could hurt him now.

"Sorry about that," he felt more than heard the Doctor say above him. It took Ianto several moments to realise he was talking to him, and several more to notice the sounds of the party were significantly dimmed, which was strange considering he hadn't moved anywhere. At least he didn't remember moving…

"Was goin' enn…?" he managed to get past suddenly dry and uncontrollable lips.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay now, you're going to be just _fine_," The Doctor murmured soothingly, but with a little too much force to be convincing.

Ianto struggled to push himself away, only to find his legs weren't responding, and the only thing keeping him upright were the arms around his waist. With an almighty effort he lifted his head up from his friend's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. Distantly he noticed they were further towards the edge of the ballroom than he had been before, but not far enough to account for the lack of noise.

"Doc? I can't…fe…el…"

"Hush. Don't speak, save your breath."

And with those words Ianto was in another man's arms, waiting for the end to come. But he couldn't be dying now, could he? It seemed briefly like an irrational conclusion to jump to, but Ianto had learned that in a life like theirs' that death was often the most likely outcome. There were only so many times you could beat the house. Unless you were Jack.

"Die?" he croaked, but he obviously got the message across as the bright eyes above him did that thing where they took up almost half of their owner's face.

"Nonononono; of _course_ not! You've been drugged, but we'll get you back on the Tardis and fix you up good as new. We just need to get out of here."

Ianto opened his mouth to reply but suddenly there was no voice to reply with. His neck flopped backwards as he lost control of his spine before slender fingers were propping it back up again. He was fairly sure that that hand had been stopping him collapsing, but maybe the Doctor had an extra one stashed away somewhere.

"Don't do this," the Doctor pleaded, the panic suddenly evident across his features. "Fight it Ianto, _fight it_!"

And then there was no air to breath in. He focused on retaining what little he already had inside his lungs; squeeze as much oxygen out of it as possible. Recycle, recycle, recycle until his body screamed in agony and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

No air to breath out either.

The gentle eyebrows furrowed slightly overhead, just enough to make a small line on one side. "No." And then they did that thing where they crinkled together at the forehead, something that Ianto had noticed his friend did when he didn't want to accept the facts.

'_It's okay.' _He tried to convey with his eyes, considering they were the only thing he had any control of anymore. He'd noticed he was getting closer to the ground as he slowly slipped from the Doctor's grasp. The other man had been trying to drag him towards reprieve, but now he'd become just a dead weight, a burden too large for the Time Lord to bear.

"Don't."

Ianto watched a solitary tear trickle down the pale cheek, listened as the room around descended into whispers, and then felt the shocked weight of silence as it closed in.

'_I'm sorry.'_

Suddenly he was falling.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

TBC

***evil grin* So...what do you think?**


	28. Chapter 28

**I think these updates will forever be late. Apologies for that and also for the terribly cliched metaphores I use here, but I'm too tired to be creative right now.**

**Many many thanks for the absolutely wonderful reviews I recieved! Hope this makes up for the end of the last chapter.**

**Unbeta'd. I killed Ianto, still doesn't mean I own it.**

Chapter 28

The Doctor stared.

This couldn't be happening. And yet the unmoving body on the ground before him said otherwise. He kept staring, vaguely wondering at the ache in his chest that had sprung up as he'd felt the other man slipping away; through his fingers. But as much as he might have wished it so, it wasn't solely because of his grief: that would have been better. Instead his body and mind _hurt_, the way it did when Time started going wrong; the vague tingling that built and built the longer he was around things that weren't meant to be. _This _was wrong. All the possible outcomes he'd seen for his young friend, this had not been one of them. A minute, a second ago he'd been shining with life before suddenly it had all gone; snuffed out like a stubborn candle finally yielding under the much greater forces of the universe.

It was weird, because Mr. Jones wasn't Jack, so the Doctor couldn't actually tell if this was it or if he was going to come back to life. Jack was a straight line through Time and Space – well, maybe not a _straight_ line but a line nonetheless, constant and unending at least for now. Mr. Jones' line had just stopped; not gone, just…paused. So he couldn't actually know if someone was going to hit play again.

But at the same time, he did.

"_You've got enough life force inside you for two, maybe three more lives. That should be enough."_

That's what he'd told Mr. Jones when he'd woken up from his first death: he'd given him enough energy to make sure he completed his part in this massive, messed up Time Loopy thing in their attempt to stop a Paradox that only seemed to be getting more and more likely. Of course he hadn't expected the Time displaced man to start using up those lives so quickly, but he still had plenty left, so he was coming back…wasn't he?

"He's coming back." An unfamiliar voice answered, sounding gravelly as if through lack of use. The Doctor refocused his gaze to see a man Ianto had been talking to earlier crouched over his…body, checking vainly for a pulse.

The Doctor frowned, "How would you know?" he asked. This bizarre man wasn't the one who was abruptly beret of something he hadn't even realised he'd needed until it had been forced upon him; something, some_one_ who he'd come to care about over the months despite his initial desires to keep him at arms length. "Mister…?" he prompted.

"General." The man corrected, "General Gustav-Morgan they call me; but it's not what you know me by."

Even before the Doctor could ask the other man's face started to change as he fiddled with a ring on his left index finger. The hair became shorter, light brown becoming dark, the face becoming younger even as the eyes became darker, transforming from a friendly hazel to a shimmering blue. The shoulders became broader, the chin cleft…

"Jack?"

"Actually it's just Captain now Doctor," Jack replied in his own voice, smiling sadly at him. "After a while even your own names become hard to keep track of." The Time Lord flashed his own sad smile back – a twitch of the lips more than anything else – but an acknowledgement: it may not have been his own reason for an alias, but it made sense, especially if you were as old as Jack was (which judging by his temporal imprint that hadn't been there seconds ago, was about 2500 years.

"How did you…?" he paused, trying to work out how to phrase his question without causing offence, but it seemed like the Captain had other ideas.

"Hide my wrongness from you?" he suggested bluntly, making the Doctor wince and run a hand through his hair in embarrassment.

"Yeah, about that…" Once again he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence.

"Don't sweat it Doc, I've got over it." The lie was obvious, but now wasn't the time. Instead Jack raised his left hand and waggled his fingers at the Doctor instead to show off the ring there. "Changes not only my appearance, but also those pesky signals that peg me as me – there were some instances in customs. As far as any kind of sensors go – including the nose of a Parnigal Wolfhound and apparently the spidey sense of a Time Lord, I'm just a regular 30 year old human. Bargain too." He grinned cheekily.

"Thirty?" The Doctor couldn't help but tease, "Sorry Jack, but that's pushing it - even for you. Is that a grey hair I see there?"

"Aww, c'mon Doc; it's normally the human part they question – I'm just too pretty." Then as suddenly as they'd started the fun was over as the older man turned his attention back to the man on the floor between them, making the Doctor realise with a jolt that he'd momentarily forgotten his friend. He watched as the Captain ran a hand lovingly over the young man's features, his right cheek in particular, no doubt re-familiarising himself with his looks. The Time Lord held his breath, waiting for the Captain to demand an explanation as to why Ianto was alive, so he was surprised when he just sighed before he starting to talk quietly – almost whispering. "You stole him." Jack looked up at him briefly, accusing. "I remember…I…I can't remember…" His voice petered out and he bit his lip in frustration. "It's like the memories are blocked, maybe even gone, but there's still this…this _imprint_ on my mind, and he promised me he came straight home, that he hadn't let you beguile him and…he said you'd offered him the universe, but he'd said no…that he wanted to come back to _me_." Jack stopped again as his voice broke under the anguish in it, pausing until he'd pulled himself under control. When he re-started it was anger that was holding him together. "I guess that was just something else that wasn't true."

The Doctor stared on, puzzled for a while until it suddenly came to him. When Mr. Jones had first joined him he'd talked about another time he'd been on the Tardis, one that hadn't happened in his own personal Timeline yet. A time when he'd apparently kidnapped the Welshman – as if! He'd been under the impression that Ianto hadn't in fact been on board for long, and indeed hadn't gone travelling with him, but apparently Jack didn't know that, or wouldn't believe it at least.

The Doctor wanted to reassure him that his lover had been faithful to his word, but honestly he didn't actually know. As much as he was sometimes tempted to ask…he couldn't.

Also, to tell would be disastrous. He'd have to reveal that this was a different adventure, that he'd brought the Immortal's companion back to life, not told him and stolen him for his own. He couldn't do that to Jack. He couldn't tell him that Ianto was alive and that he couldn't have him because he was meant for something far greater. He couldn't break him even more, but also couldn't risk what he would do – like steal the Welshman back and damn the consequences. So instead the Doctor just swallowed back the rising tears, ran another hand through his hair and changed the subject back to his original question.

"You said he was coming back; how do you know?"

"Well, you know, apart from having lived and died through his future…the rumours say he gets back up."

"Rumours?" The Doctor looked around: no one appeared to be paying them any attention.

"Yeah, it's why I'm here in the first place. People say that today one of Shrewling's marks feinted, others say he was dead, and I thought, maybe…" he stopped again as if embarrassed before continuing in a self deprecating voice. "I hoped I'd find someone else like me."

The Doctor softened slightly under those sad eyes, but even he couldn't change the facts. "There's no one else quite like you Jack."

"Yeah; I think I've got that now Doc. But how could I not look?" the Captain snapped before he gave another rueful smile. "Of course I realised that the most likely scenario if the rumours were true was that it was me – a past or future version – hence the disguise. That, and I always did like dressing up." He flashed a shadow of a leer, and the Doctor wished he wouldn't pretend, wished he didn't have to lie. "But it wasn't me…so he's not really dead right? I mean, he comes back to me; I know he does. Is it like the miracle elixir on Eden 9? Where you just look dead and then WHAM! You're not."

The Doctor couldn't help the disappointment he felt; he wished he could take comfort in Jack's logic, but Jack didn't know it was flawed. "Yeah," he agreed anyway, even though it was as far from the truth as possible. "Something like that."

Suddenly it didn't matter, because it really _was_ like that as Mr. Jones started screaming.

DWTWDWTW

Something wasn't right. There was a taste in the air that struck a chord in the not so deep recesses of his mind, the resonance of a metallic tang cascading down his tongue, and a deep dark smell awakening almost forgotten instincts.

_Number One: Gun out, check area for hostiles – if encountered, neutralise. _No gun, but no one else around either as far as he could see…not see: tell.

_Number Two: Look over bodies, confirm cessation of life._ Yep, he was definitely dead. No body to check, but it felt just like last time.

_Number Three: Determine cause of death._ That one was harder: poison seemed the obvious option considering he hadn't been mauled, shot or stabbed. But he'd only had some punch from the same bowl as everyone else, and the strawberries had been from the bunch the Doctor had been munching on. So…last thing he remembered…

Shrewling. Shrewling and his glittery 'lady' friend with the strange smelling perfume…now that he thought about it, it had been shortly after Henry had joined them that things had got out of control: he should have been able to talk himself out of the situation, or at least have legged it, but if he'd been drugged…that perfume had definitely been overpowering.

So, death by Eau de Drag Queen. Brilliant. At least it was original.

_Number Four: Cover up story._ Considering he was already technically dead that one didn't really matter, and the Doctor was the only one who would care what had really happened, and he'd been there.

Was he going to make a habit of dying in handsome men's arms?

Anyway, what came next? Ah yes,

_Number Five: Dispose of body. _Well, he didn't seem to have one. It felt like he did, but it was more like the echo of a body than an actual physical presence. So that one could be skipped.

_Number Six: Replace body if necessary with one from the morgue. _Impossible to do whilst dead…

Oh. Shit. He was dead!

And then he wasn't. And it _hurt_.

TBC

**There may be lots of angst approaching. I like angst. Then again there may not be.**

**Also, what does everyone think about a little bit of Ianto/Ten?**


	29. Chapter 29

**Little bit late, but the ending eluded me. And this is four times longer than the chapter lengths when I started this fic, so I hope it balances out. And speaking of length...cripes this is getting long! What have I got myself into?**

**You will recognise some of the dialogue and situations from the last chapter, I don't normally like to do that but I felt we needed Jack's POV.**

**Warnings: Angst. And a badly written fight scene. I promise we'll get back to the happier times soon!**

Chapter 29

The Captain stared. It was strange seeing the Doctor again, and not at all like he'd expected. He'd told himself they'd have it out, with him cursing the now much younger man for not being there to save them. For not being there to save _him_.

All the children in the world stop and the Doctor _doesn't_ come running? How messed up was that?

In his dreams the Doctor would have a fantastic excuse, something wild and mad but oh so worth it. Or the other man would apologise, _beg_ for forgiveness; and in the really good dreams he'd go back to the beginning and stop it all from happening.

Ok, so he hadn't really been holding out much hope, but what he hadn't expected was to find him swanking about the universe with half the reason for his distress.

_Ianto_.

His heart had sung, and then it had sunk as the memories started breaking through whatever lock they'd been under. Ianto and the Doctor, running off into a blue box, hands clasped tightly and vanishing. His own anguished cry. And then a blank for days, as if the memories were not only out of reach but actually not there. But then there was a sense of disappointment, and a fragment flittered through.

"So, where'd you go?" It was his own voice gushing into the black; asking, _pleading_ and he could hear the nervous tone even through thousands of years.

"Go?" Welsh, lilting, gorgeous. Only one man it could be. God how he'd missed that voice! But it was rushed, hurried, as if they were in the middle of something – not sex unfortunately – as the Rift alarms blared in the background (not that that had always stopped them).

"With the Doctor," he prompted. "You know; where'd he take you?"

"Space sir," Ianto rolled his eyes as well as his vowels, as if the answer was obvious.

"And?" he pestered, unwilling to admit that he didn't really want to know what wonderful things he'd done with the Doctor, especially as he really _wasn't_ jealous.

"And then I came home."

He grinned. "No, really, you can tell me."

"I was gone ten minutes, tops sir."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"He didn't offer you the universe? Another planet? Another time?"

"No! I mean yes; he offered, but I…" Ianto suddenly skidded to a halt, blushing a rather pretty shade of red.

Jack cocked his head to the side, leaning against the door of his office and trying not to listen to the sound of the others starting to fuss about where he'd got to. They really should have been getting on but he _had_ to know. "But I…what?"

Then Ianto looked at him, bright blue eyes boring through the memory and stopping his heart more than 2000 years later. When the words where finally spoken Jack wasn't sure if it had started again or simply broken.

"I didn't want to leave you."

He stared, stunned. "Oh…I-"

"Oi Harkness! We need to fucking go!" Owen's abrasive voice cut through, shattering their stolen moment. Jack rolled his eyes while Ianto grinned meekly.

"He's right, much as I loathe saying it," the younger man conceded. "Someone could be dying out there because of us."

It was a morose comment, and if the Captain hadn't been on what felt like a sugar high from what the Welshman had just admitted he probably would have said something about how someone was _always_ dying because of them.

"Tough." He said instead. Ianto opened his mouth to argue but he cut him off with his lips. He kept it short and brief, knowing that despite what he'd just said they really did need to go pick up/restrain/kill whatever had just fallen through the Rift. "Thank you." Jack pulled back to see Ianto staring back into his eyes, looking puzzled.

"For what?" he asked.

"For not leaving me."

The memory ended.

Jack cursed, savouring and hating the small glimpse at the same time. As much as he treasured all he could remember, now the conversation sent slender flames of disappointment through his limbs: Ianto had lied to him – over and over and over – lied to him about coming home because here he was now, prancing about the room with the Doctor, alive as he could be.

Well, either he'd lied or the Time Lord had miraculously discovered the body and resurrected him; and that would _never _happen.

But as much as it hurt, he had to stay, had to watch because this really was his last chance. And somehow, suddenly _he_ was there, young, alive and standing in front of him, the Doctor hovering just behind and eyeing up a young lady standing by the buffet table (or maybe he was eyeing up the table itself).

The next hour or so passed in a blur; only the adrenaline – or was that fear? – pounding through his blood and the chance of still finding someone like him – although it would probably end up being the Doctor now – keeping him from messing up and ruining his disguise.

Eventually his old friends wondered off to find someone else to talk to, apparently having grown bored of his nonsense about times they knew all too well. Jack kept his eye on them both until they split up, when he momentarily lost track of his dead lover before spotting him again…making directly for him. It seemed like Ianto was still drawn to him, even through the layers and pretences of being another man.

The Captain couldn't believe his luck; if it could be called luck that was: the object of his dreams (and often nightmares) was standing in front of him, chatting amicably, _humouring him_, and he couldn't really say _anything_.

Pretending would kill him one day, and he was fairly sure this would be the one.

"Very pointless." He was startled out of his thoughts as another voice joined in their conversation, even though Jack hadn't got a clue what he'd just said. He turned to see none other than Professor Theodore Shrewling; a man's whose reputation preceded him by several miles, and not in a good way.

Jack's brain started whirring: how could he get Ianto away from the man without revealing his hand or drawing unwanted attention? He recognised the glint in Shrewling's eye; it was the same glint he'd used to get when something young and pretty flitted past. It was the same glint he'd used to get when Ianto smirked or teased him.

"Haven't seen you around here before; I'm Professor Theodore Shrewling."

"Mr. Jones. Pleasure to meet you; I haven't been to this sort of thing before."

Things were quite rapidly getting away from him. He hated the way they eyed each other up, the way Theo's quite frankly gorgeous purple eyes ran down the Welshman's slightly-more-muscled-than-he-remembered-frame, skimming the perfectly cut suit adorning him. But that was nothing compared to how he felt when he noticed Ianto was eyeing the other man up just as thoroughly, gentle blues cataloguing every detail presented.

Shrewling started luring him in. Small talk, people had used to call it. Conversation starters, being _friendly_, doing a background check, gaining more knowledge about your victim…making sure he won't be missed…

"He's left a gorgeous thing like you by himself? Shame on him!"

Jack panicked. "People kept mice as pets!" he burst out, and he thought he saw a flicker of relief scamper across Ianto's face. Unfortunately his rescue didn't quite turn out as planned, as Shrewling's partner in crime used the opportunity to garner a way into the chat. The Captain groaned internally – he would recognise that smell following Henry anywhere: _Juliet's Dream _(named after what happened in the newly edited version of Romeo and Juliet), the preferred date rape drug of the rich and famous. Black market of course, but ridiculously fast acting, it was customised to 23rd century biology to induce something like a trance for a limited period of time, making the mark easily confused and therefore compliant. Then the next day the memories were too foggy even for mind probes to work on. Perfect if you wanted some fun that your (un)willing partner wouldn't be able to pin on you in court.

Who knew what effects it could have on Ianto?

Jack started forward: if he could ask the other man for a dance it'd get him away long enough for the troublemakers to move on. However before he could do anything apart from his previous failed attempt, he was abruptly seized from behind – and not in a good way. He twisted, attempting to view his captors, and had to bite back a groan at the sight that greeted him. The planet's security force, the most incompetent and utterly useless bunch of fools he'd ever had the pleasure to outwit, were gathered around him. Usually they worked in his favour; today however they were being irrationally good (okay, that was too much – decent at best) at their jobs. Obviously some rich stuck up so and so had complained about old Gustav's lack of intelligence, and they'd arrived to detain him at the most inopportune moment ever. He could easily escape them – of course he could – but to do so before they were out of the main hall would make one hell of a scene and possibly incur the fetching of a proper security force. So he was forced to watch helplessly as he was dragged away, as Ianto's eyes started to cloud over, and he was left in Shrewling's merciless grip.

He kept calm as they escorted him towards another room, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. People ignored them as they passed by, mostly too engrossed with dancing and talking and…other stuff. The rest of them just didn't care.

They lead him around a corner: the moment came: he pounced.

The first guard buckled under his weight as he attacked, dragging the only one sensible enough to still be holding on to him down as well. They hit the floor together, but Jack was the first and only one up. A foot to the groin and forehead ensured that the other two would stay down for at least a few minutes. He turned swiftly, catching the next attacker in the stomach with his elbow as he lashed out at another young man sneaking up behind him; the former sent flying backwards to impact against the wall as the latter's jaw broke under his fist. He fuelled all his rage, his hurt and frustration into each blow, unflinching as he shattered bones and left already visible bruises.

It felt somewhat satisfying.

A few minutes later and his captors were the captives, trussed up with the wonderfully elastic belts they had to wear. (Oh the things he could do with those belts…but maybe now wasn't the time.) Indeed, he'd wasted valuable time tying them up in the first place, so the Captain spared no more sprinting back to where he'd come from, hoping that it wouldn't be too late.

It _was_ too late; of course it was, but not in the way he'd thought. Instead of finding that Ianto had been dragged off, or worse still discovering Shrewling and company still there was their hands down the Welshman's trousers, said Welshman was doing a rather good impression of a doormat, with the Doctor playing the husband just got home from work, taking a much needed pause before facing the family. Or not, it seemed, as the Time Lord continued to stare, as unmoving as his Companion.

Jack rushed over, and as the Doc seemed disinclined to do so, knelt beside the downed man to check his vitals.

There were none. He frowned and checked again. Still nothing. The impression was more of a corpse than a doormat now. But that wasn't possible, because Ianto still had to return to love him and lie to him, and Jack was fairly sure he would have noticed if the young man had been a living zombie...

So he couldn't be dead.

"He's coming back." The Captain opined, at the same to knowing it and yet not quite believing it. It did however serve to get the Doctor's attention.

"How would you know?" the other man asked, and for a second Jack just revelled in hearing the sound of his voice again, letting it wrap around him and take him back to what had been. "Mister…?

"General," Jack corrected, hiding a smirk as he realised he'd promoted himself. "General Gustav-Morgan they call me; but it's not what you know me by." Before he could be asked he twiddled his camouflage-ring and took rather too much pleasure in watching the Doctor get it.

"Jack?"

_Not quite_. He'd stopped introducing himself as that when the name finally had too many memories attached to stand under. And 'Captain Harkness' just sounded _wrong_ when not said in a crisp Welsh accent with hidden meanings. "Actually it's just Captain now Doctor, after a while even your own names become hard to keep track of." _Lies_, but it made the Time Lord remember what he'd gone through, and that really had been the whole point. However they soon fell back into their old ways: the Doctor never had liked to dwell, and Jack was rather too tired to try and make him suffer. It wasn't really his fault after all.

He was the only one to blame. And maybe Ianto, for being so bloody irresistible.

Jack sighed. He'd missed this, not the banter or the Doctor per se, but just someone who really knew him, someone he didn't have to hide from…someone like Ianto.

He turned back to the young man in his arms, running his fingers over his cheek; a wonderfully unmarked cheek.

"You stole him." Jack looked up at the Doctor briefly, accusing. "I remember…I…I can't remember…" He bit his lip in frustration, wondering why he could only remember small details, like his Doctor dragging his Ianto away. "It's like the memories are blocked, maybe even gone, but there's still this…this _imprint_ on my mind, and he promised me he came straight home, that he hadn't let you beguile him and…he said you'd offered him the universe, but he'd said no…that he wanted to come back to _me_." He stopped as he felt himself start to break, and let the anger take control. "I guess that was just something else that wasn't true."

Gwen had told him about Ianto's father. He wished she hadn't, because now he struggled to remember the good times without wondering what else he'd been fooled into believing. Was it all lies?

"_I love you."_

Was that a lie?

The Doctor quickly changed the subject (ish) by reminding Jack why he was here. The rumours. Those bloody rumours that he just couldn't have ignored. As he explained about his motivation he looked up at the other man, hating the look on the handsome face: pitiful, but not sorry: he was never sorry.

"There's no one else quite like you Jack."

The Captain tried not to scream at him. "Yeah; I think I've got that now Doc. But how could I not look?" He let his anger fade away though as he heard how needy he sounded; he didn't do needy, so he shot the Time Lord a sad smile instead. That was something he'd always done; changed his mood as quickly as death now escaped him. Or maybe it wasn't, maybe it was something he'd picked up from the Doctor. "Of course I realised that the most likely scenario if the rumours were true was that it was me – a past or future version – hence the disguise. That, and I always did like dressing up." He attempted a grin, but it felt like it fell far short. He licked his lips, glancing back down at the…body in his arms. When he spoke again he couldn't help the note of panic creeping into his voice. "But it wasn't me…so he's not really dead right? I mean, he comes back to me; I know he does. Is it like the miracle elixir on Eden 9? Where you just look dead and then WHAM! You're not." He didn't mention _Juliet's Dream_, because that would mean the Doctor wouldn't know the answer. Instead he looked up at the other man, hope in his eyes; begging.

"Yeah," he agreed and Jack felt like whooping with joy, even with all that had happened and would happen to them. He didn't want his last image of Ianto to be this, no matter how much it would hurt to walk away. "Something like that."

And true to his word, the Welshman was suddenly bucking in his arms, screaming to the high heavens. The Captain slammed his hand back on his ring, once more hiding his features (and other qualities) from the world. He didn't miss the Doctor's sigh of relief, but whether it was due to his transformation or his Companion's return he couldn't tell; didn't care quite frankly.

Suitably disguised, he tightened his grip on his not-yet-dead lover, and held him like the other man had held him when he'd woken from death those few times in Ianto's arms. He pinned his arms gently by his sides to stop him trashing, and whispered soothing sounds in his ears as the world melted away. The Immortal didn't see the stares as he ignored even the Gallifreyan now crouched by his side. It was just him and Ianto again; and Jack soaked up every second, losing himself in just the other man's presence like he should have done when he actually had the chance.

Ianto stared back at him. "General?" he queried, and Jack's spell was broken. He tried not to sigh: it wasn't like it could have lasted forever, but a bit longer would have been nice.

A bit longer wouldn't have been long enough.

TWDWTWDW

Waking up from death was not fun. Ianto had already learnt this, but someone obviously felt he needed to be reminded.

The first few seconds were spent panicking, screaming himself hoarse as his senses were suddenly kick-started, but then there were arms around him, and a voice he felt like he should know whispering in his ear, telling him everything was fine.

He believed it.

Ianto opened his eyes to find the General staring at him, in a way that was strangely intimate and familiar, making it all the more creepy. A glance to his left showed him the Doctor hovering nervously nearby, licking his lips and looking like he'd enjoy nothing better than dragging the military man away and taking his place. The Welshman filed that piece of information away for later.

"General?" he queried and the older man seemed to jolt out of a kind of trance. The General pulled back to help the younger man sit up, and he released his hold on him almost regretfully. "What just-"

"You fainted kiddo."

Ianto raised an eyebrow, and the General winced, as if sensing what was coming next. "Did not." He bit back stubbornly, rejecting the idea not only because he knew it wasn't true, but also…"I do not _faint_. Makes me sound like a girl."

"Ooh, sexist are we?" Gustav-Morgan grinned.

Ianto frowned. "No, but-"

The Doctor chose that moment to butt in before things got out of control. "I think what the good general means is that you passed out."

Ianto shot him a look, showing him exactly what he thought of _that_ idea. '_LIAR!_' His mind screamed, making the Time Lord wince as if he'd heard him, but he gave a pointed glance at the other man still crouched by him to make sure Ianto got the message. Ianto resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. _Of course_ he got it: people didn't just die and come back to life. Well, apart from a few.

"Yep, you did," the Doctor pushed as he crept closer, leaning over to grab one of the Welshman's hands. Ianto looked up at him, and seeing the worry in his eyes he squeezed the hand back, quirking his lips in reassurance.

"I'm fine."

"Good." Ianto started slightly as the General spoke again, having almost forgotten he was still there. "Cos we're getting some weird looks, and I think maybe it's time to…y'know…vamoosh."

"Vamoosh?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes…vamoosh."

"I didn't know people still said that."

The General grinned at him. "I'm not people."

"Fair point."

"Now shoo."

"Yes sir!"

Ianto turned away to use the Doctor to pull himself up, therefore missing the flutter of pain across the General's face.

"Well Mr. Jones, ready to move on?" Ianto wondered for a second why that question sounded like it had a double meaning, but he didn't dwell on it, or on the fact that the Doctor had yet to let go of his hand. He nodded slightly, and moved to follow the older man as he started to move away before pausing and turning back, pulling away to walk back to where the General was still crouched.

"Need a hand?"

Gustav-Morgan grinned and accepted, clenching his elbow as Ianto hauled him up. "Thanks," he whispered, not letting go and the younger man suddenly noticed just how close they were, especially when another hand brushed softly against his hip.

Ianto watched entranced as a gentle tongue poked out, tracing soft pink lips seemingly unconsciously until they gleamed.

"Umm…" His heartbeat tripled. A puff of warm air ghosted across his face. "Ah…you're welcome."

And then the General kissed him – properly, on the lips – and Ianto gasped into the other man's mouth. He hadn't kissed a human since…since Jack; aliens he'd had no problem with (much to the Doctor's amusement), but humans…he wasn't sure why. But as the General kept kissing (snogging) him, he found himself responding, and not just because the other man was bloody good at what he was doing. He _wanted _to. Hell, maybe it was because he'd just died, or maybe it was time to move on. They were just starting to get into it – with the Doctor looking intently on (voyeur) – when the older man pulled back, and Ianto found himself staring into blue eyes instead of the hazel they'd been a minute ago. He frowned, but everything else about the man was the same so he didn't think too hard about it. And then the General spoke, his voice quiet, choked and hoarse, and the blue – wait, no, hazel again eyes suddenly swimming with what looked suspiciously like tears.

"When the children stop…run…run before your world ends."

Ianto froze, but the stranger didn't give him time to reply or even think before kissing him again, quick and brief but still distracting enough to prevent the Welshman doing anything.

The General pulled back again and stepped away, his eyes connecting with the Doctor's, and Ianto could have sworn there was a silent conversation going on. The Time Lord didn't look happy about whatever was going, at least until Gustav spoke again, when he looked pleasantly surprised.

"Show him the universe Doc. Make it count."

The Doctor nodded, slowly and surely. If he hadn't still been woozy from his second death Ianto probably would have picked up on the apparently bizarre words. But he was, so he didn't.

The General turned back to him and smiled kindly. "It was nice meeting you Ia-Mr. Jones. Take care of yourself. Ianto found himself nodding dumbly in reply.

"What will you do now?" the Time Lord intervened before the silence became too obvious. "If you don't mind me asking that is…" he left the sentence hanging uncertainly, twitching one side of his mouth as if embarrassed. But it seemed to be their new friend's turn to look pleasantly surprised before he buried it under a satisfied smirk.

"Oh you know; places to be, people to see, knuckles to crack…" '_Shrewling'_ went unsaid. "Rumours to spread."

He winked at them in farewell before turning to stride away; with his long, black, military coat swirling around his knees.


	30. Chapter 30

**Oh cripes, is that the time? I have had approximately no time recently, and this chapter just wouldn't write properly. Also, apologies for breaking some hearts in the last chapter - I can never tell if I'm overdoing it or not - but Jack has to be miserable for a while longer**** cos I'm still roughly following cannon - pre end of David Tennant's reign.  
**

**Anyway, this one's a bit up and down, but I hope it's not too bad.**

Chapter 30

_Previously: Ianto dies at a party where Jack is pretending to be a General. Ianto comes back to life_, _realises it wasn't a one-time deal. Talking happens. Ianto and Doc say bye to the General._

The return to the Tardis was made in silence; neither man wanting – or knowing how – to break the strange atmosphere that had settled between them. When they arrived at the door of their small blue home however, the Doctor turned to Mr. Jones and licked his lips nervously.

"Home sweet home," he finally broached, vowels lifting to give his voice an almost musical quality.

Mr. Jones didn't reply, so the Doctor didn't realize he'd triggered a cascade inside the other man's mind, thoughts racing as he considered what had just been said.

_Home._

But how could this be home when he already had one, waiting patiently for him back on Earth? Jack might have run for the stars but the man hadn't been quite everything in Ianto's life. Almost everything he'd ever cared about was tied to that small rotating sphere. Home for the last year or so before had really been the Hub, but before that he'd had a flat, and even though it now would have been sold he could always get another one. He could patch things up with Rhiannon, be a real uncle for his niece and nephew, and maybe even learn to get along with Johnny.

As his thoughts aligned he made sure he kept his face neutral however, leaving the Time Lord to tug his ear and reach for his key.

The lock clicked as possibilities moved forwards in Ianto's mind, the door swinging open in welcome. He could meet Gwen and Rhys' daughter. Babysit. Have a normal life without Torchwood, without Jack.

"Yes," he finally whispered. "Home." All the little bits of information started slotting together in his mind, coming together to form a picture with only one piece missing.

The Doctor beamed from the centre of the room, having heard and misunderstood what Mr. Jones meant, and starting launching into a monologue about the wonders of banana milkshakes.

"What does that button do?" Ianto cut him off before he could really get going, pointing to the last piece of the puzzle in his head; an innocuous looking green button on the console. Just one more piece to complete the schematics…

"Hmm?" the Doctor blinked before his brain caught up. "Oh that!" he bounded over to the object in question, stroking it lightly with a fingertip. "That's the…actually I haven't got a clue!" he turned to the younger man as his grin became impossibly wider. "Isn't that brilliant?" Ianto frowned as the older man turned back for a closer examination. "Self destruct possibly, more likely a stabilizer of some sort; I'm sure it's not that important anyway…so where to now?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in glee.

Ianto's frown deepened as he processed what had just happened. He'd just have to hope this puzzle didn't need all the pieces in order to see the larger picture. In any case, he wasn't waiting any longer.

"Home," Ianto repeated, quietly enough for the Doctor not to hear, because he still had the other man to contend with first. "How about a cup of tea?" he posited instead.

The Doctor paused, considering. "Oooh, go on; but only if you're making it!"

Ianto allowed himself a small smirk at that; the Time Lord had become rather dependant on him to brew his hot beverages just the way he liked them. He'd have to find someone else to do that now: someone else to look after him, someone to make sure the crazy old alien didn't get himself killed. Ianto hoped he found someone. Despite his best efforts to not become attached, he had; he was genuinely fond of the Doctor. He was smart, funny, quirky, full of life and not to mention handsome – not that that made the slightest difference to him at all!

"After you Doctor," Ianto gestured out into the hallway politely. The Doctor beamed in response and Ianto felt his heart clench at the sight.

"A true gentleman Mr. Jones: dying race indeed! Your mother would be proud."

And then Ianto hit him over the head with the mallet.

His mother would be _thrilled_.

The alien crumpled from the head down in a comedic manner, but laughing was the last thing on the Welshman's mind. In fact he tried not to think at all, lest the reality of the situation knock him upside the head too.

He manoeuvred the Doctor's unconscious form towards the wall, placing him comfortably lying down so he wouldn't injure himself whilst in flight. The Ianto moved swiftly to the central console…and stopped.

He had no clue what he was doing. Sure, he'd been planning this since he'd first come aboard. Sure, he'd been watching the Doctor manipulate the controls as they skipped through Time and Space. Sure, he'd read up on time travel to prepare himself…and he still hadn't got a clue. But this was his final chance and he wasn't going to waste it.

Ianto glanced over the ridiculous controls before him, and started to painstakingly copy what he remembered the other man to have done. It was times like these when he was thankful for his good memory (other times, when he was haunted by the never-fading images of burning metal and flesh, not so much). The more he remembered the easier it became, until he could almost sense what had to come next, almost as if the Tardis herself was guiding him. He still didn't know what he was doing, but he knew how to do it. He flicked switches, bonked buttons and span whirligigs in the name of time travel until there was only one part left.

Co-ordinates. Time and place.

Ianto licked his lips, standing slightly back from the console as he thought. The place was easy enough; he had to see his sister first. He wasn't quite sure how she'd react; of course she knew about aliens now, but maybe her brother coming back from the dead was pushing it…he'd just have to hope.

But then there was the Time. If he landed too soon the world would still be in turmoil, and selfishly he didn't fancy dealing with the 456 fallout. Also, too soon and he might bump into Jack before he'd fled, meaning Ianto wouldn't have seen him drinking away his sorrows on that planet they'd found him at, and the younger man would still be pining for the liar who promised never to forget him. He was apparently messing with the Timelines by going home, but that particular bit was something he didn't want to lose. Yes it would be nice to still live in ignorance, but now he could move on. The less he changed the better. Besides, the only reason he apparently couldn't go home was because the Doctor said he didn't, but how did the Doctor _know?_ Maybe he did go back, and this wouldn't be altering anything after all. He could change his name; a new name for a new life, with only a few to remember or care about the old one.

Ianto Jones could still be dead even if he wasn't.

He set the date for exactly one year after he'd died the first time, and pulled the lever.

_Home._

DWTWDWTW

Ianto peeked his head slowly around the open door, fingers crossed that the Tardis had for once taken him where she'd been asked to go. She had. He smiled up at the ship before swiftly ducking outside, planting his feet on solid ground as the door swung shut behind him. He breathed in, letting the sweet, damp air of Cardiff fill his nostrils, heavy with the scent of promised rain with a subtle mix of car fumes. His ears picked up the distinctive roar of petrol engines, a sound he'd never thought he'd miss. It was bizarre what you thought about when you were racing across alien planets, with cars/vehicles/things that ran on hydrogen or aliens crystals or _bubbles_.

This was how it was supposed to be.

He didn't bother to fight back the small grin quirking over his lips: it wasn't like there was anyone around to think him a nutter. And besides, he felt _good_. But after a few minutes of just standing and drinking in the sights, smells and sounds, Ianto realised that maybe that wasn't a good enough excuse, especially when he's stepped straight onto the road.

_HONK!_

Later he would deny that anything even resembling a girly scream left his lips: the driver disagreed.

With that stark reminder that he was actually back on earth, he began to actually take in his surroundings. Ianto smiled slightly as he remembered the people who lived on this street; the sweet old couple who ran the corner shop, the batty old lady down the road, his sister….

Slowly, carefully lest he jog himself awake from what had to be a wonderful dream, he made his way towards a small house. A house he hadn't seen in two years – it felt like so much longer – but familiar nonetheless.

In his mind Ianto could still see the dining room where he'd first held baby Mica; the kitchen where he'd cooked on a rare occasion he'd actually come to visit; the bathroom where he'd held Rhiannon close as the morning sickness started to pass.

But there were gaps. The hallways were a blur; the pictures on the walls blank; and were there three doors or four doors visible from the bathroom? Or any at all? He wished he had more memories of it: more memories of his sister and the life he'd left: (the life he'd run away from for the one that had got him killed.)

He kept staring; nostalgia fading as reality broke through.

Things had changed as well. They'd painted the front door and put some new plants outside. There were bright garish stickers on the windows and a new set of blinds.

Did his sister even live here anymore?

The corner shop was gone; in its place a Chinese takeaway (wouldn't Johnny be pleased?) and the street was a lot quieter than he remembered. The house opposite was deserted; windows boarded up whilst the For Sale sign drooped drearily.

There were no lights on, and not just in the abandoned palace of capitalistic living (Ianto wondered when he'd become so bitter and metaphorical) opposite, not just his sister's house, but everywhere. Of course there wouldn't be; it was early afternoon after all, and the residents were far too used to the usual overcast sky to admit defeat and flick the switches. And yet…it was wrong.

Ianto had pictured his homecoming as something more. The not-quite busy street still alive and active; children playing outside, rebellious teenagers hovering on corners whilst their parents glowered through the curtains, a soft welcoming glow coming from all the houses. Now he saw that image as what it was; a ridiculous falsity. It was a school day after all.

And the lights were off because nobody was home.

_Home._ An unfamiliar, empty house on an unfamiliar, empty street. Suddenly it didn't seem quite so much like home any more. Sure it had never actually been his home, but for the last two years it had been all he'd had left to cling to. And clung he had like a drowning man to a swiftly fraying rope, deep down knowing he wouldn't make it but unwilling to give up.

"Oh hello there dear, haven't seen you in a while-"

Ianto started at the voice, staggering backwards until he remembered who he was and regained his equilibrium. He turned to face the voice addressing him.

It was Mrs. Jenkins; a small old lady from down the road of whom the general consensus was 'off her rocker but mostly harmless.' He'd always been somewhat fond of her; always making sure to pop in for a chat when he visited Rhiannon, probably because she baked him cookies but still treated him like an adult. She also never nagged him about coming over more often like _some _people did, which made a nice change. But she did talk a lot, and Ianto suddenly realised she was still at it.

"-your sister's out I'm afraid – she's still doing that yoga class: pointless I keep telling her, but does she listen? No! Says it keeps her looking young, but I haven't done a day's balancing on one leg on my life and I've looked like this since I was twenty eight!" She gestured at her much wrinkled face, and Ianto suppressed the disturbing mental image which was threatening. Instead he plastered a politely interested smile on his face whilst he contemplated what else she'd said.

His sister was out. Of course she was out; she was always out in the daytime doing something or other, and he'd known that. Even if he hadn't been thinking about it, somewhere the back of his mind he'd known the likelihood of her being in was slim to none: so why had he come _now_? Was it some subconscious message or had it been the Tardis' doing? That was ridiculous however: he'd programmed in the time himself: he'd brought himself to an empty house knowing full well what he'd been doing – at least unconsciously.

Why had he done that?

He suddenly realised Mrs. Jenkins had stopped talking – a rarity indeed – and was looking at him with all too knowing eyes.

"They think you're dead you know. No body; but they've got one of them fancy certificates. And you haven't been around to claim otherwise."

He hummed noncommittally in response. Was he dead? He no longer knew.

"Your sister'll be glad to know you're alright."

And with that simple statement everything sprung into place as Ianto froze.

"Are you okay there luv?" Mrs. Jenkins queried, a worried look on her wrinkled face.

'_Of course I'm not' _he refrained from snapping. How could he be alright? He _was_ dead. And wasn't that what the Doc had been on about the entire time? What had he been thinking coming back here? How would his sister have reacted, seeing him back from the grave? She'd probably think she was going nuts, and even if she didn't what would happen then? He couldn't stay: their neighbours weren't _all_ idiots, and they couldn't rely on everyone to keep their mouths shut. Hell, his niece and nephew would probably boast about it! He'd be on the front page of every newspaper, never a moment of peace if he was lucky. More likely he'd be taken in for questioning; poked and prodded and through various experiments best not thought about they'd find out about his new spooky powers.

Then he'd be in for a whole world of pain.

But he couldn't stay on earth and just not visit. Ianto didn't think he could bear that; knowing he was within reach but couldn't touch.

The drowning man let go of his rope, and suddenly realised he could swim.

"Actually Mrs. Jenkins, I can't stay." He spoke slowly, plastering a small smile on his face as he did so.

"Oh I'm sure she'll be back soon dear: why don't I make you some tea?" At her words the fake smile transformed into something not quite so forced. Hot drinks could stave off most crises; from alien invaders to distressed Welshwomen. But not today.

"No, I mustn't; but thank you for the offer ma'am. I just wanted to see it again." The house. Wales. 21st century Earth. And now he had. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention seeing me today."

"Don't you want your sister to know you're alive sweetie?"

"Please." Ianto reiterated, ignoring the question. "It would only cause her more pain."

Mrs. Jenkins looked at him like he was an idiot (he was) but nodded. "Alright dear. If that's what you want…"

"Yes. Thank you."

Impulsively he reached out and hugged her, holding her close for a good few minutes before she finally shoved him gently away. "Be off with you then, you silly boy!"

Ianto laughed at her words. For the last five or six years he'd been the sensible one; even more so since joining the Doctor. Maybe it was time to change that, to live a little.

"Yes sir!" he saluted, waving cheekily as she rolled her eyes and tutted at him.

"You watch yourself Mr. Jones. One day that tongue of yours will get you killed!"

A year ago, a month ago, maybe even a minute ago that sentence would have wiped the smile right off his face. Because that prediction had already come to pass. But now…he didn't really mind. That life was over, and now that he thought about it, he didn't really want it back. Of course he's miss it – his family and friends in particular, but they would move on, and he would move on, because there was so much more out there waiting to be discovered…

"It already has Mrs. Jenkins!" he called back cheerfully over his shoulder as he turned and walked back towards a familiar blue police box. "It already has!"

He just had to hope the Doctor would take him back.

TBC

**I'd love to hear what you thought, and also feel free with concrit and spell/grammar corrections; I haven't read this one over too well -.-**


	31. Chapter 31

**The end of this chapter just wouldn't write properly, so sorry if it sucks. Anyway, I promised some more upbeat stuff, so here ya go (I hope). Not many chapters of this part left now :'(**

**Thanks so much for the continuing favs, alerts and reviews - if I didn't reply it's because my phone won't let me, not because I don't love you guys! **

**Mourning Glory - TARDIS has been changed. Was actually my weird spellcheck, but now it is fixed! Ta for pointing that out!**

**Orion Lyonesse - Yeah, I think normally Ianto would be cunning and slip something into the tea, but he wasn't really thinking straight and wouldn't give the impression of being quite so spontaneous.**

**Fan - thanks for the lovely reviews, although sorry if I've been distracting you from your homework!**

**And finally...sorry about the wait. Again x Infinity**

_PREVIOUSLY : Ianto bops Doctor over head, hijacks TARDIS back home, realises there's nothing left there for him, and heads back to the ship._**  
**

Chapter 31

"So, where would you like to go next?"

Ianto had to admit this was not what he had expected to hear when he'd finally plucked up the courage to cross the threshold into the TARDIS. Various scenarios had been running through his brain, but this had certainly not been one of them. He'd been anticipating one angry Doctor rubbing his head and glaring at him, before slamming the door in his face and stranding him as punishment. Or a still unconscious Doctor, who when he eventually woke up would be very angry, chuck him out, slam the door in his face and strand him on Earth as punishment. He'd even prepared himself for a completely different Doctor – the knock on the head with the mallet having triggered a brain aneurism or some such thing, killed him and forced the Time Lord to regenerate – who would then be very angry, slam the door in the younger man's face and strand him as punishment.

So when an absolutely fine Doctor poked his head out from behind the central console, asking where he wanted to go for their next adventure, Ianto was…well…baffled.

"What?" he asked, deciding to display his confusion.

The other man looked over at him, all wide eyed and bushy haired. "Well a cup of tea's all well and good but if you don't want to make me one…"

Ianto blinked again, this time coupled with a slight drop of the jaw. "You're not annoyed?"

"Why would I be?"

"I did just betray you."

The Doctor sighed, suddenly slightly more serious; although not as serious as the situation probably required. "Yes, you did. You lot do have a tendency of not listening to me. Humans, honestly!" He shook his head in fond exasperation, remembering other times with other companions where his wonderful advice had been ignored. "So it was bound to happen at some point really, and I knew – well, I was _fairly_ certain you'd come back. Either that or the universe would cease to exist, but it hasn't and…here you are."

Ianto stared for a few minutes whilst he processed this. "Urr…good. Good. I think."

The Doctor shot him a smile which the Welshman hesitantly matched. "So, where to now? You can pick."

The younger man thought for a minute. "Is there any guarantee we'll actually get there?"

"No more than usual."

"So none at all then?"

"Oi!"

And they were back; just like it was before, as if the entire thing hadn't just happened.

"Maybe I'll let you drive then! Mind you, I'll have to teach you _properly_ first of course. Can't have you pressing the wrong button and blowing us all up!"

Or not.

So Ianto did what he always did when he'd just been blindsided. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

The older man looked over at him suspiciously. "For real this time?"

"Of course."

The Doctor grinned in anticipation, but Ianto noticed that he kept a close eye on the whereabouts of the mallet as they left the room.

They remained in silence for the short walk to the kitchen, but surprisingly it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Slightly tense, but not quite awkward. The first right found themselves in the room they were looking for, and Ianto silently sent a 'thank you' to the TARDIS while he filled up the kettle and flicked it on.

"Why do you call me Mr. Jones?"

The Doctor looked up from where he'd begun fiddling with some device that most certainly did not belong in the kitchen.

"It's what you're called."

"I do have a first name you know." Even if it hadn't been used in almost two years.

"So do I." The Doctor quirked his lips. "Somewhere."

"Really? And here I thought Doctor was your _real_ name." The sarcasm in the younger man's voice jumped out and did the tango, just to make sure it wasn't missed – the Time Lord could be surprisingly obtuse at times.

"You don't have to call me Doctor."

"What else would I call you? _Doc_?"

"If you _must_." There was a weighted pause before the older man continued, his voice suddenly serious and slightly melancholy. "You haven't asked what my name _is_."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You won't answer."

"No: but you haven't asked." The kettle clicked – he had asked why the other man didn't have something more high-tech, like the ones you got in the 30th centuries that took nanoseconds to boil, but the reply had been a shrug and a 'I rather like it'. "Thank You."

Ianto nodded before dropping the subject to prepare their cups. (He was drinking tea as well now, damn the man.) He'd long since realised however that there were certain questions you just didn't ask, and he'd become rather good at not-asking.

A few minutes later he realised the Doctor hadn't answered his original question.

"Sugar?" he asked instead.

"Ooh yes please!"

TWDWTWDW

And life continued on much as it had done. With some changes.

"Pull that lever!"

"This lever?"

"YesyesyesNO! _That_ one!"

"That's the one I was asking about!"

"Well, in that case pull it! No time for dawdling Mr. Jones!"

And so on and so forth until eventually Ianto was fairly sure he could pilot the ship by himself. The Doctor however refused to let him, citing the excuse that he wasn't ready yet. The younger man didn't believe it for a second (not that he was arrogant or anything, but he had successfully taken himself where he wanted to go last time). However considering how lightly he'd got off with going against the Time Lord, he supposed the other man was allowed to not trust him entirely.

That however, was not the case at all.

Unbeknown to Ianto, he'd triggered a cascade through the Doctor's head, haunting him for the next few days. Why _did_ he call him Mr. Jones? There was no need to. Sure it was habit now, but why had he done it in the first place? He knew the answer to that though, even if it was one he didn't like thinking about. It was to keep his distance. 'Ianto' was too personal, and being personal was a mistake he'd made _far _too many times.

And it was one he was making again.

If he gave Mr. Jones sole control of his ship, and the man showed just how brilliant he was…the Doctor wasn't sure he'd be able to let him go. And he had to eventually.

Didn't he?

DWTWDWTW

"Don't shoot!" The Doctor cried out, arms immediately going outward in the universal gesture for stay away. Beside him Ianto had his hands in the air, trying to contain his fear, and not for the first time wishing the Doctor would let him carry a gun.

They'd been cornered in (surprise, surprise) a corner, by some angry looking guards in the underground castle of Dimitri Prime. The whole planet had a somewhat medieval feel to it; dungeons, dragons and knights in shining armour all mixed with a healthy dose of space travel, computer science and guns. Despite where those guns were currently pointing, it was kinda cool.

The leader of the soldiers glanced over them, dismissing Ianto with a glare before turning back to the Doctor. Ianto barely refrained from huffing, wondering why he was always overlooked – didn't he look threatening? – whilst the Doctor wondered why _he_ always got the blame.

"Honestly, we've done nothing wrong, so there's no need to shoot."

"So tell us what we want to know."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" The man waved his gun for emphasis.

"Because I don't know what you want!"

"Wrong answer." The gun turned until it was pointing at Mr. Jones, who promptly rolled his eyes at how old this was getting.

"Honestly I don't know!"

"You really expect me to believe that? You and your friend arrive with your all-access passes and suddenly the Holy Anura Randiae has vanished!"

There was a pause as the two time travellers digested what had just been said. And then Ianto burst into helpless laughter. The Doctor was tempted to follow his Companion's example, but decided to go with: "This is about a _frog_?"

"A_ frog?" _the guard mimicked incredulously. "_A_ frog? Are you mad? This is the pet amphibian of Her Royal Highness Princess Dimitri herself! A frog indeed!"

Ianto caught the Doctor wince at the mention of the Princess' name, and wondered what exactly he'd done to this particular member of the establishment. He would have asked, but there were men with guns and quite frankly it was more fun to guess.

"Maybe it's really a prince who can only be transformed by true love's kiss," he muttered sarcastically. The Doctor shot him a look, which clearly read '_do you really think this is the time?'_

Ianto shrugged back in answer: '_when else?' _

The Time Lord glared, opening his mouth to reply when-

_Bang!_

Mr. Jones collapsed; a neat bullet hole through his shirt. The Doctor's head snapped around to stare at their captor in horror as the younger man's Timeline snapped out of existence.

"What did you do _that_ for?" He practically shouted.

"You weren't paying attention." The man switched his aim; his eyes cold and glinting. "Now you know I mean business."

"There was no need to kill him!"

"I think there was." The Doctor gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to keep arguing a moot point against someone who obviously wouldn't see reason. The guard continued with a menacing tone. "Learn from your mistakes. Now, tell us where the frog is, and I'll let you live."

"How many times do I have to tell you _I don't know_!"

He glared at the guard, who just snorted in disgust.

"Take him down to the cells." He ordered one of his cronies, whose presence the Doctor had all but forgotten, before glancing over at the younger man slumped against the wall. "Leave the body here for the dogs."

The new guard – who looked as if he didn't have his own brain – marched over and grabbed his arm. The Doctor glared some more, but the other man didn't seem to notice, and instead began dragging him away.

They'd barely managed three steps when the Time Lord felt the by now familiar feeling of _Life_ surging through his veins, the sound of a heartbeat restarting echoing through his mind. He'd long since given up wondering _why_ he could feel his friend so well and just learnt to be grateful.

A gasp of air followed quickly by several clanking thuds as chainmail and armour hit the floor. A gun was cocked, and he'd never been so grateful to hear the sound in his life as just then.

"Let him go." A familiar voice growled. "_Now._"

The guard turned his head, confirming the Doctor's suspicion that he was brainless as he reached for his holster. Another gunshot made him freeze, and out of the corner of his eye the Doctor took note of the bullet graze along the other man's shoulder, not deep enough to cause any real damage but enough to bleed.

At a distance of a few paces, there was no way Mr. Jones had missed.

"Let him go." The young man reiterated in a low voice. This time the guard complied, and the Time Lord was finally free to turn around to see the damage caused.

Mr. Jones looked furious, scrap that, _dangerous_, holding his liberated weapon straight and sure. Crumpled around his feet were three of the guards, including the one who'd shot him – coincidentally looking the worst off out of the group.

"We will be leaving now." He carried on, directing his words at The Brainless One.

"But the frog-"

"Is not with us. You should try looking in a pond perhaps. Now, you will not follow us; you will not attempt to warn your superiors; and you most certainly will not go for your gun again. Do I make myself clear?" The guard shuddered with terror, voice box frozen as well. "I said; do I make myself CLEAR?"

"Yes sir!" the guard squawked. Mr. Jones winced, but didn't falter.

"Now run."

The Doctor stared, wondering where this side of his friend had suddenly come from as the feckless footsteps faded down the corridor. This wasn't something he'd seen before in him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see it again. Although…it was nice to have someone looking out for him, someone willing to do anything to protect him. Willing to hurt people, maybe even willing to kill-

"Doc…?" Mr. Jones asked, pulling the Time Lord out of his rather alarming thoughts. He found his friend staring at him, concern obvious in his eyes and no trace of the rage that had been there before as a small smile hinted at his lips.

"Hmm?"

"I found the frog."

"Ooh, that's lucky."

There was a pause. "Not particularly, no."

"Why ever not?"

"I fell on it."

"Ah….well…run?"

Mr. Jones just looked at him as if the answer was obvious, which it was.

"Run."


	32. Chapter 32

**Thanks so much for the reviews, sorry I've once again been unable to reply, so here is my massive thanks to all of you!**

**This chapter's a mix of light-hearted fun and other stuff. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 32

It had been years since he'd seen that coat, but Ianto doubted it was a coat he could ever forget. They had been wondering around a 37th century Arab Market Metropolis (blending in impeccably with their dark suits in the sweltering heat) when Ianto spotted it out of the corner of his eye; a chance glimpse for a chance meeting.

"Hey!" he shouted as the coat twirled through the crowds, jostling shoppers uncaringly until it caught his cry. It paused for a second before abruptly changing directly and heading off at a much faster pace. Ianto cursed under his breath and took off after it, determined not to let it get away. For a moment he thought he'd lost it within the writhing mass of people, then a quick look around caught a flash of distinctive colour and he honed in once more. There would be no getting away this time.

Ianto chased the coat into a back alley (no matter what planet they landed on there was always a convenient dark alley lurking; it seemed to be something built into human culture across the millennia) where it finally ran out of places to hide, forcing the man it contained to turn and face him.

"It's not what you thin-" the man began, arms raised placatingly, but Ianto was having none of it.

"You bastard!" He punched him. Hard.

The man stumbled back from the force of it before steadying himself on the wall. "Nice to see you too Eye Candy." John Hart grinned up at him, wiping his bloody lips on his unforgettable red sleeve. "But really, it's not what you think."

"And what am I thinking?" Ianto glared.

"That I've been going against the rules? Interfering? Being…_naughty?_" Hart asked, using his best poker face whilst letting his tone speak for him. "'Cause I haven't, more's the pity. Not one little-"

"Then why did you run?"

For a moment he looked blindsided, his mouth dropping open before snapping shut again, but the 51st century flirt quickly recovered.

"I rather liked the idea of you all hot and bothered chasing after me," he leered.

"You bastard!" Ianto repeated, pulling his fist back to prepare to strike again, but he'd forgotten just who he was dealing with. Unlike most of the aliens/criminals/lost-puppies-with-superpowers he found himself facing day to day, this crook actually had skills. Which was why the other man was suddenly in his face, tugging on the back of his neck to swing him around into a headlock before buckling his feet out from under him. Ianto's knees thudded into the ground, John kneeling behind him to prevent him moving. That didn't deter him from struggling.

"Eye Candy; c'mon! I thought you'd forgiven me!" the Captain protested in his ear, breath ghosting across his neck.

"Forgiven you?" he hissed incredulously. "_Forgiven_ _you_? How could I ever forgive you for leading _that monster_ to Earth? For getting my friends killed? For burying Jack alive and breaking his heart?"

John shrugged against him, Ianto able to feel every nerve the other man had rubbed against singing in approval. He cursed his body's betrayal: even when he was angry he couldn't resist those damn 51st century pheromones.

"You've always struck me as a very…_forgiving_ person." Captain Hart ran his free hand down the younger man's arm, and if not for the headlock he would have almost believed he was being seduced. "Besides, I was talking about the incident with Fr…" Suddenly John's hand reached his left wrist and encircled it before he froze, abruptly cutting off whatever he'd been saying. "What've you done with…?" His head was abruptly released as the arm quickly moved down to circle his right wrist. "How…? Oh come on!"

And then John was in front of him, hands on his cheeks, peering into his eyes and Ianto's back felt strangely bereft.

"What?"

"Ah…whoops. Never mind then." The Captain pulled back completely and straightened up, smirking down at him mischievously. Ianto quickly realised that he hadn't bothered to get off his knees yet despite no longer being restrained, and that if someone chose that particular moment to walk around the corner (the Doctor knowing his luck) it would certainly not look great. Him on his knees, face level with the other man's crotch in a back alley in a particularly shady part of town. Not a compromising position _at all_…which was of course why Hart was grinning so widely. Ianto could almost believed he'd planned this.

"Well…not that this hasn't been fun, but-"

Mr. Jones surged up and rammed the other man into the wall, cutting off whatever excuse he'd been about to cite in order to get away. He didn't bother to struggle.

"Tell me what's going on." The younger man practically growled. When there was no reply he leant his arm against the neck beneath him.

"Just a case of mistaken identity: thought you were somebody else."

Ianto raised an eyebrow at that. "I never realised there were so many 21st century Welshmen running around the universe." Hart grimaced at the sarcasm. "Now tell me the truth!" He leant his elbow into the other man's throat for emphasis.

"I'd love to." John started. Ianto glared. "No really, I would, cross my heart and all that, but it really wouldn't be..._advantageous_ for either of us."

"Why not?"

"Because…because…be_cause_…I'm from your future."

"_-Mister Joooones!" _The Doctor's disembodied voice floated from somewhere nearby – the man must have finally pulled himself away from the food stalls and realised he was missing. Ianto ignored the call, too tied up in what Hart had just revealed.

"You…what?"

"Going deaf in your old age Eye Candy? I'm from your future."

"No. No, you can't be."

"Okay, technically I'm from your future _and_ your past-" Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow. "-but it's best not to think like that." The Captain shrugged as best he could with an arm impeding his movements. "In fact, let's not think about it at all. Unless you _want_ your brain to explode." He grinned disconcertingly. "Non-linear living; gotta love it."

"_-Jooooooones-"_

Ianto blinked, but before he could even open his mouth to demand a better explanation he was on the floor again, this time with no idea how he'd got there, listening to the clunk of Captain Hart's boots as he swaggered away.

"Cheer up Eye Candy! You'll be seeing a lot of me very soon!" The other man tossed over his shoulder, and Ianto breathed a sigh of relief that he was leaving. Abruptly however the click of heels ceased and the Captain spoke again, but this time his voice was lower; almost, but not quite mournful. "I am sorry, you know. About what happened with your friends…and Jack. I never meant…" He trailed off, the explanation unneeded.

And for some reason Ianto found himself nodding his acceptance; maybe because for the first time since he'd met the man he actually sounded sincere. That, and John had loved Jack far too much to ever wish what happened upon him. Death? Yes. Destroying him completely? Not so much. It was a strange relationship the two of them had, but it worked. Or didn't, actually, now that he thought about it.

"Mr. Jones!" Suddenly the Doc's concerned face was hovering above him. Ianto sat up quickly, making his head spin in the process.

"Where'd he go?" The Doctor just looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Did you see…?" he trailed off, frantically looking around for any sign of the man he'd just been talking to. There was none. The alley was deserted apart from him and the Doctor, no sign at all of the infuriating man who'd been there not even a minute ago. Time Travellers seemed to have an awful habit of upping and leaving without so much as a goodbye. Although _he_ was a Time Traveller and he hadn't done so yet.

But then again, he had no one to leave behind.

"Mr. Jones?" the Doctor looked at him, curiosity waging war with concern inside his lovely ancient eyes.

Mr. Jones sighed.

"Never mind."

TWDWTWDW

"Asnizzle!" The Time Lord suddenly exclaimed. Ianto didn't miss a beat.

"Bless you."

The Doctor frowned. "No…that's what it's called." He pointed at a constellation directly above them in the darkness. "Asnizzle. It's the 60th century equivalent of a dog. You see that's the tail there, and there's it's six legs-"

"Doctor."

The Time Lord looked down to meet Mr. Jones' amused face.

"I know what they are."

"But you just…" he trailed off. Ianto's lips quirked as he watched comprehension dawn. "Oh…you…yes…umm…" he trailed off embarrassed, and ran his hand through his hair in lieu of anything better to do. Eventually the younger man took pity on him.

"Where's its head?"

"Hmm?"

"The constellation. It hasn't got a head."

"What? It's always had one before..." The Doctor whipped his glasses out of his pocket and put them on to stare up at the night sky for a minute. "No, look, there it is." He pointed. There was no reply, and eventually he lowered his head to find Mr. Jones lying on the grass to get a better view. "See?" he pointed again.

Ianto hummed in response, not really listening as he became engrossed in the stars. "That one looks like a TARDIS."

The Doctor snapped his head back up. "What? Really? Where?"

"Right...there." There was a sharp tug on the Time Lord's trouser leg before he suddenly found himself lying on the ground, his face pressed into Mr. Jones' arm.

"Oof!" the somewhat delayed reaction escaped his lips as something which sounded suspiciously like a snort echoed from the man beside him.

"Slight miscalculation there I'm afraid." Mr. Jones chuckled, attempting to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Slowly, carefully, the Doctor levered himself onto his back before nudging his now somewhat skewed glasses back into position.

"Could have just _asked_."

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"Hmmpf." For a moment they lay there, their breathing evening out until you couldn't distinguish one man's from the other. "So, where's my TARDIS then?"

"Right there."

The Doctor continued to squint up at the sky through his spectacles, until Ianto sighed and once again took the matter upon himself.

"Hand."

"Umm…"

Ianto stuck his hand out to the older man beside him. "Hand." He repeated. This time the Doctor got the message, slipping his fingers into the ones proffered.

"What are you-?"

"Shush."

Ianto took a firmer grasp of the friend's hand, curling them together until only their index fingers remained free before lifting the up to carefully trace out a pattern in the sky. The Doctor watched entranced as their fingertips mapped a faint outline of something vaguely box shaped. It didn't really look anything like the TARDIS, or even much like a rectangle, but he didn't really feel like complaining. He happy for a few minutes to just stop and stare.

"Oooh look, there's the Giant Spoon!"

The Time Lord quickly pointed their conjoined hands to another part of the sky, beginning to trace out the next shape.

Beside him, Mr. Jones smiled.

TWDWTWDW

"Can I keep it?" Ianto asked, looking down at the small purple creature with enormous orange eyes that had somehow attached itself to him during their long and arduous trek through the jungles of Aztec 6.

The Doctor sighed. "I'll think about it." Ianto beamed in response. "I said I'll _think_ about it." Ianto kept grinning. "Oh alright! Fine! But only if you remember-"

"Aliens are for life, not just for Christmas." He intoned solemnly. "I know…_mum_."

The Doctor grinned back. "Good boy. Now eat your vegetables." Ianto rolled his eyes before going off to play with his new pet.

As it turned out however, this particular alien was just for Christmas (that is, Christmas according to the New New Advent calendar, which didn't have chocolate behind each door but a miniature picture of a Buddhist monk holding a flower. Ianto had been very confused, but mostly just disappointed.) Because when Ianto accidently let it eat some coffee beans he'd spilled – or in reality the Doctor had fed it the beans and then blamed it on the other man – the poor creature had ballooned to several times its previous size and become increasingly feisty. In the end they were forced re-home it on a planet specifically dedicated to protecting rare and unusual creatures, but they both swore to check in upon Jenkins (as Mr. Jones had named it) at regular intervals.

All in all, a fairly relaxing day.

And then Ianto got shot. Again. It was starting to become a habit. Straight through the head this time though, which made a nice change – usually the bad guys had terrible aim and he ended up bleeding all over the place, but this one had been a poacher, so he'd been dead before he hit the floor.

Ianto absently wondered when having one's brains blown out had come to constitute a good day.

"Why do they always shoot me?" he asked once he'd recovered enough to talk as the Doctor hovered hopelessly above him.

The other man quirked his lips even as he checked that they were alone. "Must be the accent."

Ianto snorted. "Typical. Wales doesn't even exist anymore and they still hate us."

"There's always room for a bit of friendly prejudice."

"Friendly? He _shot_ me!"

The Doctor winced, still apparently distracted by something or other (most likely a beautiful girl he'd accidentally rescued). "Don't take it personally."

But take it personally he did. At least until the bastard responsible was pinned under his foot and trembling in terror.

"I…I…I shot you…" the man whimpered. "You were d-d-dead!"

Mr. Jones twisted his foot further into the man's neck. "I'm invulnerable." The Doctor shot him a glance, but he wasn't looking.

"P-p-please don't…"

"Don't what?"

"…don't kill me…"

"Kill you? Why would I do that?"

"I sh-sh-sh-shot you…"

"Exactly. You see, I'm not like you…"

The Doctor watched on as Mr. Jones gave another twist of his foot, causing the floored criminal to groan in pain, and he couldn't help the little niggle of doubt flicker through his mind.

"_I'm not like you." _

_Not yet._

ooooo_  
_

"You're not invulnerable you know." The Doctor said quietly once they were back on the TARDIS, the danger behind them. Mr. Jones quirked his lips.

"Careful Doc, you almost sound concerned."

It was said teasingly, but the Time Lord couldn't bring himself to smile. "You keep dying! Of course I'm concerned!"

"You shouldn't be." He turned away, pacing around the console in order to put some space between them. "I've worked it out you know. I'll just keep coming back until I've done whatever it is you brought me back to do."

The Doctor rubbed his nose: the other man did have a point – the TARDIS wouldn't have risked another fixed point for nothing after all. But he wasn't quite ready to reveal what exactly had caused all this trouble.

"How can you be sure you haven't already done it?" he asked instead.

Mr. Jones looked over at him, old eyes shining with a sinister sort of amusement.

"I'm not dead."

TWDWTWDW

The city was huge, sprawling and bustling and just like most Monday mornings when everyone had somewhere to be but too little time to get there and almost no desire to do so at all. Ianto could almost believe this was 21st century Earth (_Earth_, not home; home was the Doctor and the TARDIS and whatever mad adventure they found themselves on next). There were small children tugging at parents' sleeves, pressing themselves up against holographic displays offering the latest in sugared treats, whilst said parents attempted to tug them onwards. There was a beggar on the corner asking for spare credits, and a group of students outside a bank protesting government cuts and the price of tuition fees. Apparently some things never changed.

Of course, there was also the many tentacled creature selling jewellery, the flying cars and the talking dog. But apart from that…21st century Earth.

As they passed a teleport station a man offered him a copy of The Daily Planet (and hadn't Ianto giggled for hours the first time he'd seen _that_?). He accepted, flicking through it quickly to scan the major headlines and re-orientate himself to the era. A few minutes passed in silence, until something came to mind.

"I thought logging was banned." Ianto stated.

"Hmm?" The Doctor looked up at the apparent non sequitur.

"You said by the 50th century logging was banned by Galactic Law, but now it's the 52nd and they've still got paper." He waved the newspaper in emphasis.

"Who said anything about trees?"

Ianto stopped in his tracks. "Do I want to know?"

The Time Lord tugged his ear significantly, "Probably not."

"Right, well, that's a line if I've ever heard one. I'll bite."

The Doctor grinned at him. "Excrement." He pronounced, rolling the word to make it sound almost pretty.

Ianto gulped, glancing down at the sheets in his hand. "What?"

"That's what it's made of, the paper. Excrement. Droppings, guano…"

"Okay, okay, I get the point!" He hurriedly placed the paper in a nearby bin before turning to the other man incredulously. "That's what we found to recycle our waste? Dung paper. It's got quite a ring."

The Doctor grinned at him and continued walking down the high street.

"But _really_?" Ianto carried on, struggling to get his head around the concept. "Aren't people…squeamish?"

"It's not used much. Most things are digital now: computers, holograms, brain downloads...and besides, people did it back in your millennium too."

"Not with much success."

"Still, it was progress, which eventually on some planets led to the wonders of-"

"Dung paper."

"Exactly!"

There was a lull in the questioning for a minute, and then…

"What about loo roll?"

"…"

"Surely they don't…?"

"…"

"Doc? _Doc?"_

"Oooh look! A chippy! Fancy some chips?"

"Not if they're wrapped in newspaper."

ooooo

A few minutes later they emerged from the brightly lit shop into the even more brightly lit street, the Time Lord clutching a can of something luminous green that he claimed to be Coca-Cola, and a bag of chips.

"I was joking you know…about the paper thingy."

"I know."

The Doctor paused, halfway through his bag already. "Wait, how'd you-"

Mr. Jones smirked.

"I know everything."

TBC

**Apologies for the disjointedness, and the weirdness, and the random POV changes, and...yeah. Hope it didn't distract too much :P  
**


	33. Chapter 33

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

**I didn't plan on publishing today, but I'm around, FF is mucking up my formatting, and here's the penultimate chapter of part 2! Sorry it's a bit short.**

**Once again though, a massive thanks for last chapter's support and reviews I couldn't reply to - reached 200! Woohoo! Should be able to reply this time, enjoy.**

**Big bulks of italics are flashbacks!  
**

Chapter 33

His Companion was becoming increasingly hard to keep track of.

"Mr. Joooo-oones!" he called, for what felt like the trillionth time, his cry echoing down the almost endless corridor.

"In here Doctor!" A slightly muffled voice finally replied.

The Doctor backtracked down the hall until he found the doorway the voice had come from: The Wardrobe.

"Mr. Jones?"

The man in question popped his head out from behind a full length mirror. "Yes?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I…err…" he faltered, wondering exactly why he'd been looking for the man in the first place. "You, ah, weren't in the control room." Mr. Jones raised his eyebrows higher. "Or your room. Or the kitchen."

"Is that a crime?"

"No! No, of course not! I just…ah…" _Was lonely. Missed you._ Neither of which he would ever say out loud. Luckily he was saved from embarrassment when the other man stepped out from behind the mirror. "What _are _you wearing?"

Mr. Jones blinked. "Clothes."

"Ah…those aren't your clothes."

"Nope. Your clothes actually."

"I would never wear…" he wrinkled his nose and resisted the urge to shudder at the very thought, "_That."_

The '_That' _which the Doctor was referring to consisted of a deep red silk shirt, tight black trousers and the usual smart black shoes. His suits – not only the black and white pieces he'd started off with, but all the other colours that had gradually snuck in as well – scattered all over the room. He hadn't seen destruction like this since the fall of Troy. (Okay, that was a slight exaggeration, but he was sure the people of Troy wouldn't mind.) And the Doctor had to admit, he was slightly confused. The only time he ever raided the wardrobe and changed outfits was when he regenerated, and half the time that was because his old clothes didn't fit anymore.

But that wasn't entirely the truth. Well, it was, but figuratively as well as literally. Regeneration wasn't exactly straightforward, and the change went much deeper than just physically. He was the same person of course, same memories and thoughts, but…things were different. His expressions, accents and actions changed. His whole outlook on the world altered; another set of eyes often saw things differently. And that was fine. Except…his old clothes no longer _fit_. He needed new clothes for a new personality, a new face.

So what on earth had brought this on in Mr. Jones?

"Is the shirt too much?"

"Uhh…"

But the other man had taken his hesitation as confirmation and without further ado had stripped the offending item from his person.

The Doctor couldn't help but stare.

"Blimey. You're…" he trailed off, gesturing to Mr. Jones' rather on display torso. And a very nice torso it was at that.

"Toned?" Ianto suggested, smirking as he noticed what the Doctor was looking at exactly.

"Toned." The older man finished, finally tearing his gaze away to lock onto the amused blue eyes opposite. "How on Gallifrey did that happen?"

His Companion raised an eyebrow, before speaking in that irritating deadpan way of his. "Apparently running is a form of exercise." When the Doctor just continued to stare he continued: "And I found the gym."

The Time Lord ran a hand up the back of his hair before tousling the top.

"I didn't even know we had a gym."

Ianto just smirked as the older man still didn't look away, eyes roaming over his body in a way he wasn't quite used to from him.

"Like what you see Doc?"

"What? Well…I'm not…I mean I don't…err…" The Doctor blushed and quickly looked away, but before long his eyes were back again. "Hang on; are you wearing _jeggings?"_

DWTWDWTW

Ianto didn't have any scars. He'd noticed this before of course, but it hadn't really registered.

"I don't scar."

"Nope." The Doctor replied casually, popping the 'p' as if he already knew, which he did.

"How many times have I been shot now?"

"Sixteen."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You counted?"

The Doctor clenched his jaw, face going slack. "I remembered. Very quickly." And he did. He remembered every time the younger man had taken a bullet, all the times he'd been stabbed and maimed and beaten and broken. Every weird and not-so-wonderful way he'd bitten the dust.

"_Don't you dare die on me!" the Time Lord shouted as Mr. Jones convulsed beneath him, the poison coated shrapnel causing his body to go into overdrive._

"_Lost 'lotta blood Doc," the younger man gasped._

"_I don't care!" Wild eyed, the Doctor pressed desperately on where he hoped the wound was – it was hard to tell with all that blood._

"_I'll be back." Bright blue eyes stared up at him, reassuring, but those words didn't help when he saw the life spiral out of them, leaving the Time Lord hugging an empty shell, tears slipping unnoticed down his cheeks._

He hated it, hated seeing the young man die again and again, throwing his life on the line to save the world, or sometimes just a child. And it was weird, you would have thought that the more times Mr. Jones died, the more comfortable he'd be about it, but instead almost the opposite seemed to be true. And those times Mr. Jones had taken the hit instead of himself…the Doctor didn't think he could ever forget those; the memories playing over and over in his own private cinema.

"_You…why would you do that?" the Time Lord asked in incredulous desperation whilst the bullet meant for his head was slowly killing his friend, having landed too close to the heart. It had left a lovely hole in the latest silk shirt._

"_I'll come back," Mr. Jones choked out. "You wouldn't."_

"_Yes, yes I would, I'd regenerate, I'd live, I'd be fine-"_

"_No," the younger man shook his head as forcefully as he could manage whilst bleeding out onto the floor and in excruciating pain. "You'd still live, but you wouldn't be _you._ Not my Doctor." He coughed up blood for a few seconds before pressing on, the torrential rain not enough to dilute his words, or the slowly spreading red puddle. "I'll survive, just like always."_

"_No, not always, one day you'll die and you won't come back!"_

"_Not today."_

"_How can you know?"_

"_Just do."_

"_Well I don't!" He ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up only to have it flop back down onto his head under its own waterlogged weight. "Do you know what it does to me? Seeing, feeling_ _you _die_ over and over again, knowing that it might stick, that you won't wake up?"_

_Mr. Jones stared up at him with sorrowful eyes, but there was a glint in them, a harder edge. "So worried about your precious Timeline…"_

_The Doctor looked away, not wanting the other man to see his wince. "No," he shook his head emphatically. "No…about you…" He looked back, only to be met with a glassy gaze, devoid and hopeless. "I care about _you._"_

"How come?" He was brought out of his memories by Mr. Jones' voice.

"Huh?" The Doctor blinked in confusion, his mind struggling to separate the conversation. "How come…what?"

Ianto sighed as he realised the other man hadn't been paying attention.

"Why don't I scar?" he asked again whilst rubbing his cheek, tracing a line only in his memories.

"Same reason Jack doesn't: the Vortex. It drags you in, chews you up and spits you out good as new again."

"Lovely."

"Oh yes."

"So I'll never scar?"

"Shouldn't do."

"Well, I suppose if that harpoon didn't do it, nothing will."

The Doctor couldn't contain his flinch at the memory of that particular boating trip. "You know if you keep this up there won't be any new ways to kill you left."

There was a momentary pause.

"I haven't been decapitated yet."

"Oh Rassilion help me."

DWTWDWTW

Ianto had something on his mind. Something he'd thought about a lot, especially recently, and he'd finally decided that he needed the Doctor's help. He wasn't usually one to admit defeat so easily, but the Time Lord was the expert after all.

"What's with the lip synching?"

The Doctor stopped playing with his sonic screwdriver and looked up, eyebrows raised and prompting him to elaborate.

"On alien planets, with aliens, I hear English."

"Yes," the Doctor frowned; he was sure he'd explained this already at some point. "That's the TARDIS, it gets in your head and-"

"Translates for you. Yes I know."

"Then what-"

"But I don't just _hear_ English; I _see_ it too."

"Oh, _that. _That's because you and your tiny human brains couldn't possibly cope if your eyes told you one thing and your ears told you another. The TARDIS just helps out."

Ianto remained silent for a minute, contemplating this. "So your ship gets inside my head and messes with my brain?"

"Basically…yes." The other man said far too gleefully.

"Isn't that against the law?"

"Most likely."

The Doctor went back to fiddling, but Ianto was quite done yet.

"What about TARDIS? Is that a translation too?"

The older man's head snapped back up. "Hmm?

"Well, it's an acronym, but in English. So either all the words in your language begin with the same letter as in English using the same alphabet, which seems rather unlikely, or the translation actually produces a different acronym. But if that's the case your ship isn't actually called the TARDIS."

The Doctor stared. "Are you nit-picking at my sentient alien ship?"

Ianto smirked. "It does appear that way." He replied firmly.

"That's a bit rude." The other man pouted.

"She doesn't mind."

"Oh really? And what makes you say that?"

"She told me."

The Time Lord froze. Ianto watched as his face lost all of its colour, his muscles slackening and his eyes staring off into the middle distance. Ianto got the awful feeling that he'd done something horribly wrong.

"Well I say told, but more like she _felt_ it at me." If anything the other man's expression became harder at his words. "Doc? You-"

"No…" the Doctor muttered, just loud enough to be audible. "Nononono, this can't be, you're not allowed to-OWW!"

Ianto stood back to watch the other man rub his cheek, where there would soon be a nice red hand print for decoration.

"What did you do that for?"

The younger man looked at him, eyes harsh and unrelenting. "It's bad manners to talk under your breath."

And with that he primly turned on his heal and stormed off, leaving the Doctor to wonder where it had all begun to go wrong. Because as much as Mr. Jones thought he was just being rude, he wasn't. Well he was, but unintentionally. If the TARDIS was actually communicating with his friend (not just conspiring but actually a two-way exchange of emotion) that meant she had become attached. And _damn_ but so had he.

Hell, they'd practically just had a _domestic_.

And this wasn't the only time they'd acted somewhat like a…couple: a fixed family. The bickering, the bantering, the way they spent far too much time together…even the actual conversations they held (when they had them) had become rather…personal. Telling each other the mistakes they'd made; the lives they'd saved, the ones they hadn't, the planets they'd almost destroyed.

The ones they had.

It was supposed to be simple: give Ianto Jones some breathing space before he was thrown in at the deep end; let him live a little, whilst at the same time slowly preparing him for life in the 51st century. He wasn't supposed to _like_ him, want him, forgive him, lov…

_No._

He had to cut loose. Before it was too late.

No matter how much he didn't want to.

TBC


	34. Chapter 34

**So sorry for the awful wait; I have many excuses but I won't bore you with them as they basically just boil down to RL.  
**

**Anyway, please point out any mistakes an such as I'm in a bit of a rush posting! Would have liked to refine this a bit more but I figured I've left you guys waiting for long enough, so thanks for sticking with me!  
**

Chapter 34

For once absolutely nothing had gone wrong, which in hindsight must have been why it went so badly. Ianto had always thought that when finally no evil aliens gate crashed their party – or technically no evil aliens gate crashed the party they had gate crashed – that the two of them would simply end up whiling away a few hours hunting down possible conspiracy theories before tootling off to find something a bit more invasion like. So he was completely unprepared when their evil alien free gate crashed party seemed to be entertaining the Doctor perfectly well.

"Look! They've got canapés!" the Time Lord grinned, whisking far too many from a passing hover-tray. But Ianto didn't share his friend's enthusiasm – and not just because he wasn't a big fan of the treats. Ever since the incident with Shrewling these sorts of thing always made him feel slightly queasy – the muscle memory of his second death still haunting him, the flashbacks causing his stride to falter. That man had had a far bigger effect on his psyche than he would ever admit. Even after he'd looked him up and discovered that a few weeks after the incident – linear time – Shrewling had turned himself in to the authorities, claiming that he was being hunted down by the military for ghastly purposes; Ianto couldn't shake that fear. And so, whilst the Doctor strutted around the room canapé-hunting, Mr. Jones practiced his invisibility and prayed for an alien invasion.

Apparently he was out of luck on both counts. The party proceeded without any apparent hiccups, and an old lady decided to attach herself to him and spend the next few hours regaling him with story about her very extended family, with photos to match.

Five minutes in; he was praying even harder.

"And this is my great-great-grand-nephew Beatrix; isn't he cute?"

Ianto stared at the photo of what appeared to be a duck, wondering weather it was his eyes or his ears which were deceiving him. "Err-"

"And that's Pauline, his father." She whipped out another photo from her seemingly endless bag. (Ianto hadn't quite decided if she was secretly Mary Poppins, or if it was TARDIS-like technology.)

"The one in the dress?" he asked politely.

The old lady looked at him weirdly. "Don't be ridiculous! It's a jumpsuit."

"Oh, of course, my apologies. I'm…umm…not wearing my glasses," he quickly apologised whilst sighing internally. _'Why do I always attract the crazy ones?'_

TWDWTWDW

The photos had eventually run out, and his new friend had pottered off to find someone else to torment for a few hours. He was just looking around for the errant Time Lord when the man in question popped up from behind him, making him jump.

"Doc-"

"Fancy a dance?" the other man asked, eyes full of mischief.

"With...with you?" Ianto couldn't help but stutter in surprise.

"Of course with me." The Doctor held out his physic paper, his finger hovering over the 'Plus One' on his faked invitation. "I am your date after all."

"I…umm…" the younger man couldn't help but stutter, thoughts grounding to a halt as his brain struggled to keep up, protesting vehemently as it went.

'_I've finally lost it,_' he thought. '_Yup. Lost my mind._'

"C'mon Mr. Jones," the Doctor wiggled his fingers invitingly, and Ianto knew he was done for. Dancing with the Doctor…how bad could it be?

"Well, since you asked so nicely; lead on." He placed his hand firmly into the other man's, holding his breath as he bit the metaphorical bullet, and looked up into kind eyes.

The Time Lord smiled. It was a new smile; one Ianto didn't already have catalogued. So Happy-Surprised Smile (as it would henceforth be called) went into the drawer of Doctor-Smiles right after No. 27: 'Just Looking Around, Never Mind Me' Smile. There was a drawer for other expression as well, but Ianto had noticed that there was only one other main one apart from Smiles (subcategories Grins and Smirks) and that was 'Dark and Brooding'. He tried not to dwell on that too much.

Ianto had always done it – consciously at first – filing people's emotional reactions to certain stimuli away for future reference, until it had become a survival instinct against a world of people who didn't always have his best interests at heart. Now he didn't even register he was doing it; he'd trained his brain to take in certain things, and it did. But he was well aware that this wasn't normal. Sure, there were body language experts, and people who knew their partners so well they could guess the other's next move, but this was different. Normal people didn't keep a record of friends' facial expressions in their minds, just in case one day they turned against them and they needed to be ready; all of it tucked away in alphabetical order.

_Paranoia_ the shrinks called it. (Not that he told them or anyone else: he'd made that mistake once; one too many beers with Gavin down the pub, the look of fascination turning into horror, disgust – all filed away of course – until he still flinched at the word _freak_.)

But it was a lesson he'd learnt early on; before Government conspiracies and Torchwood, back when aliens were just little green men from Mars in that pop-up book Rhiannon had got her little brother for Christmas.

People were _mean_.

It wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you.

And so he filed, catalogued and sorted; neat little rows in boxes, drawers and shelves – _just in case._

Jack had a whole cabinet; full of smiles and frowns and twitches. Other reactions as well, recorded not out of necessity but for an entirely different purpose. But those were private, locked away in the bottom draw to only be perused when completely and utterly alone.

Which wasn't now. Not when fingers clenched gently around his own, Happy-Surprised Smile and kind eyes leading him into the middle of the room, slotting them together like they belonged.

Ianto thought that maybe they did.

TWDWTWDW

If asked, neither man would be able to state how long they danced for; Time seemed to loose all meaning (which was a fairly unusual occurrence when travelling through it). They glided across the hall in a slow sort of waltz, moving with the music but not constrained by it. The other guests at the banquet thought it was kind of cute, although several were annoyed that they wouldn't get the chance to take a spin around the floor with either of the two handsome young men who were so wrapped up in each other.

To Ianto it hardly seemed like they were dancing; the only difference from normal was the lack of danger and their proximity – although even that was debatable.

"Oh! That's just brilliant that is!"

"Hmm?"

The Doctor grinned at him, waiting. When his Companion showed no signs of recognition he rolled his eyes and prompted: "Listen!"

For a moment Ianto didn't hear anything noteworthy; the music played on, the hubbub of voices flowed past his ears, the occasional shriek of laughter, noises all ebbing and flowing like the tides of Cerulean Nova until he could hardly distinguish the waves from the shore. Until…

"…_nobody stands in between me and my man…"_

"Oh God."

The Doctor smirked cheekily, and began to sing along.

"_It's me and Mr. Jones."_

"Stop it." Ianto glared.

"If you insist. Next line's a bit rude for me anyway."

"Of course; because the mighty Time Lord never swears."

The mighty Time Lord wrinkled his nose in reply. "I swear! But only in polite company."

Ianto laughed; a warm and happy and _real_ laugh, dipping his head to try to stifle it but accidentally brushing the older man's cheek.

The Doctor tensed at the movement, or more accurately what it did to him, and the grin fell off his face as he saw the truth of the situation. He'd thought that for once he could make it end well; part with a Companion on good terms, neither of them leaving the other but a mutual agreement that it was time to move on. He realised now that was never going to happen. No matter how he did this, however many platitudes or explanations he spouted, wherever and whenever they might be…this was going to _hurt_. It was too late for it not too.

Now was as good a time as ever to break hearts.

"We can't keep doing this you know," The Doctor sighed.

"This?" Mr. Jones queried.

"This." The Time Lord released a hand from around the other man's waist to gesture between them. The latter raised an eyebrow in question.

"Dancing?"

The Doctor sighed again. "All of it. You and me. In the TARDIS." He let his words sink in for a few seconds. "It's time for you to go."

They danced for another beat, another footfall as the music ate their silence.

"_You can't keep lying to yourself…"_

"WHAT?"

Ianto stopped moving, halting their progress abruptly in the middle of the dance floor as it dawned on him what this conversation was about.

"You…_what?_"

He'd expected it of course, known it would have to be soon, before he got much older, but…he'd never thought it would be _now_.

The Doctor was wearing almost no facial expression whatsoever, which Ianto had categorised as Dark and Brooding No 1: Don't Mess with Me. It was the face he wore when people had died, people he'd _liked_; or when anyone mentioned the "_greater good"_.

"You need to leave."

Mr. Jones broke away from the Doctor's still firm grip, putting a much needed distance between the two of them.

"Just like that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep."

"So that's just…it?"

"That's it," the Time Lord confirmed bluntly.

"Wow. Could have been done with a little more tact you know." Ianto bit out, his mind still struggling to gasp what the hell had just happened, and when it had all gone so wrong.

"Would it have helped?"

"Maybe. No. Would have been polite though."

Emotion rushed across the Doctor's previously immobile face.

"Oh and _when_ would it have been _polite_?" he began to rage quietly in that fierce way of his. "Over dinner? Whilst chasing a herd of rampaging wildebeest? As you _died_?" he spat out, his voice grew in volume as he started to pace, his arms lifting to make nonsensical movements in mid air, his whole body screaming with repressed anger. "I kept trying to find the perfect time, but do you know what I found? There isn't one! And there never will be; but I had to do it at some point!"

"So why now?" the younger man snapped. The Doctor looked at him incredulously.

"It's been three years!"

"Exactly! One more would hardly hurt. With the technology you've got access to we could have _decades_ and no one would notice a thing!"

"I would!" the Doctor practically shouted, bringing the both of them back to the present as the other guests turned to look and tutted disparagingly. The racket of the hall flooded back from where it had become simply background noise in their ears. "_I_ would know," he repeated; just loud enough for Mr. Jones to hear. "And we could…but then I'd never let you go."

Silence played between them for a second as Ianto digested what had been said, acknowledging the sentiment – that which had been said and that which hadn't – but he wasn't going to give in quite yet.

"We could-"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not even going to listen?"

"This is the _only_ way; why can't you see that?"

"Because I want there to be another way; there has to be another way! Don't you see? Don't you want that too!"

Exasperated, the Doctor dragged a hand through his hair.

"Oh Mr. Jones, I want that more than anything."

"So why won't you _try_?"

"Because we can't. There is no other way." Suddenly the Time Lord stepped closer again, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and willing him to understand. "I can see all of Time – that's my curse. Every path that could be taken, those that should be taken and the ones that really _really_ shouldn't. But all those paths I see…none of them are_ ours_."

Somehow the mood shifted as the word 'ours' was propelled into the air, confirming what it was that both of them had been feeling, hinting at for some time now.

The Doctor was _certainly not_ staring at Ianto's lips, and if he was, there was no way for Ianto to know because he was _certainly not_ staring at the Doctor's lips. Centimetres, seconds and eons apart. "That's why you have to go now, whilst your heart still belongs to Jack."

Mr. Jones looked at him as if staring into the depths of his entire being, all the while being himself completely unreadable. The silence gathered with the weight of all the things they'd still left unsaid, until it was quietly shattered as Ianto spoke again, his voice a mere whisper in the space between them, yet somehow still loud enough.

"If only I had two."

But how many times could those hearts break before they just…_stopped?_

TWDWTWDW

Ianto sat on his bed and stared at the door to his room. He'd stormed back to the TARDIS without speaking another word to the Time Lord and had headed straight for this sanctuary. His room: the one that had become more of a home to him than any of his previous rooms ever had, even though this one had the irritating tendency of moving places when he wasn't looking.

He felt a wave of sadness wash over him – not his own though, and he stroked the nearest wall, accepting the commiseration. "What's going on girl? Why am I even here?"

There was no reply. Mr. Jones sighed, picking up his meagre bag of possessions he'd quickly packed and headed for the control room. The Doctor was leaning against the console in an almost perfect imitation of how he'd been when Ianto had woken up from his first death all that time ago. Three years. It was hard to believe it'd been that long. It was hard to believe it was over.

The Doctor flicked a switch and the central mechanism began to move as the gentle whirring filled the still room.

"Ready to go?"

"You don't have to do this."

"I really do." Their eyes locked across the room, the older pair resigned, the younger frustrated.

"Why?"

"Jack-"

"Is _everything_ about _him?_"

The Doctor sighed for what felt like the millionth time in just that day as his ship came to a surprisingly smooth halt. He'd thought the argument was over, dead and buried, but apparently like a zombie it kept coming back for more.

"He's a fixed point-"

"This is _my_ life!Not his!"

The Time Lord fought to keep his voice calm as Mr. Jones' became increasingly emotional.

"Your future is his past, and without that…"

"I know, you've said a thousand times…_kaboom_, wave goodbye to the universe! I know; but _why?_" the other man pleaded._ "_That's all I ask Doc; tell me _why_."

Another sigh. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know."

Ianto shook his head incredulously. "You're lying."

"Would I do that to you?"

"I didn't think you'd do _this_ to me."

"Sometimes these things just happen."

"So I meet a younger Jack in the fifty first century and then…? I go on with my life there? Can I come back here? Do I carve myself an entirely new existence in the future?"

The Doctor didn't answer, but the silence was hesitant, heavy with doubts.

"You know something, don't you?" Ianto prompted, his anger welling up again. The Doctor looked…_ashamed_, slumping slightly against his ship.

"I…I didn't want to tell you."

"I knew it!"

"I don't want you to think you don't mean anything."

"I think it's a bit late for that."

The younger man watched as the Time Lord flinched, but he didn't care anymore, not if it finally meant getting some answers. And suddenly there was a manila folder being proffered, one of those important looking ones that have lots of little tabs sticking out of their rather full sides. It was the sort of folder that would have TOP SECRET stamped on top in the movies. This one had a stamp, but instead of saying TOP SECRET it said IMPORTANT. There was another stamp a bit lower down: it read VERY IMPORTANT. And under that someone had printed the words READ ME!

Ianto blinked, startled. "That's my handwriting."

"Which technically makes this all your fault," the Doctor replied as he looked up.

"How-?"

"It was delivered to me."

The younger man looked back down at the paper in his hands, before slowly starting to flick through the pages, the Time Lord watching on. After a few minutes he spoke again.

"This is me."

"That's Agent Jones."

"This is _me._ But I still don't see _why_."

"Look at the back page." Mr. Jones complied, and the Doctor watched as the realisation began to spread over his face. "Jack lost two years of his life, two years that led him straight to me. And you're the one who takes them."

"No…"

"Yes!" In a rare physical display of rage the Doctor snatched the sheet out of the folder and waved it in the other man's face. "Authorisation _Jones_! You owe your _life_ to those words! That's your _purpose_, that's why you're here! The only reason you're not dead is because of this sheet of paper!"

The minute the words were out of his mouth he knew they were exactly the wrong thing to say. Telling people they have to do something – something which is the only reason they're still alive – generally doesn't go down well.

It didn't this time either.

Mr. Jones exploded. He snatched the sheet back and flung it and the rest of the folder across the room, letting the files scatter through the air. "Well maybe you should have left me dead!"

"I couldn-"

"Oh no, of course not! I forgot; you _always_ bow to authority. Such a stickler for the rules. Just drop me off in the 51st century then! Wouldn't want to defy a piece of paper would we? How does that even work? Do I just wander into the Time Agency headquarters and ask for a job? "Hey, can I work here because this piece of paper says I do in the future? And while you're at it, mind if I use your memory erasing technology to set off this entire fucked up Time Loopy Paradox thing in the first place?" How could they_ possibly_ say no to that?"

"I've got a friend-"

"Oh of course you do! Not even going to bother making sure I'm settled in, because you can't bear to see me moving on!" The Doctor flinched again; Ianto didn't even notice. "I could just not go, you know. I could pilot your damned ship somewhere else and never look back. No Time Agency, no Immortals, no Time Travellers with a God Complex! I could; you know I could!" He paused to catch his breath, heavy again as his voice had risen, but now winding its way back down to its usual calm and controlled self. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken so much at once. He could barely remember the last time he'd been this angry. "But I won't, and do you know why?" There was no reply. "Because I like you Doctor; and I'm very, _very_ glad I met you. Even despite what you've done to me. I won't put that in jeopardy."

The Time Lord's expression was blank again, but as Ianto finished speaking he caught his eye, the older man nodding in acknowledgement.

"So how does this work?"

"You have two years to get close enough to Jack, or high enough up in the Agency to take those two years so he'll never remember meeting you before Torchwood."

"Right…so…where do I start?"

The Doctor looked at his shoes; the nice new Oxfords Mr. Jones had bequeathed (forced) upon him just a few days ago.

"Just…step outside," he intoned, voice flat and dry. "Everything's sorted."

"Oh." Ianto felt himself deflate. He had to admit that although he was doing this, he still didn't like it, had still been hoping that the Doctor would let him stay a little bit longer. Apparently not. "Well, goodbye then." He held out his hand for the other man to shake, trying his best not to remember all the other times he'd taken that hand, running and laughing and dancing – but mostly running.

Their hands connected, grasped, pulled away as if they were strangers who had just completed a business transaction. And then the erstwhile Welshman (known as Mr. Jones to hundreds across the universe, as Ianto to just a few) picked up his bag and walked out the door and listened to the sound of the TARDIS as it faded away.

TWDWTWDW

Separated from the vacuum of space by what appeared to be a small wooden door, a Time Lord sunk to the floor, put his head in his hands, and cried.

END OF PART 2

**So, there we go, bit of an anti-climax but there wasn't really another way to go. So sorry for the lack of 10/Ianto, but the muse said it wouldn't work, and I've long given up arguing with that monster.**

**There'll probably be another long wait until the next chapter, because the next part requires a lot of planning and actually thinking stuff through! Yay! Sorry about that.  
**

**I would love to hear what you thought!  
**


	35. Chapter 35

**So...long time no see. I know a promised a few of my lovely reviewers that this would be up about five weeks ago, but these evil things called exams attacked and left me for dead. Luckily I survived the onslaught and now am fighting fit again! And apparently have developed a penchant for extended metaphors...0.o**

**Anyway, my deepest apologies, I don't own Torchwood, please enjoy.  
**

**As always, my love for flashbacks can be seen in _italics._**

Beginning of Part Three

Chapter 35

Ianto looked around the room, trying to remember how he'd got there. Everything was just a mass of sensory information; hundreds of _images sounds feelings_ pelting his brain, clamouring for attention. His head ached, his throat felt raw, his limbs groggy as if he'd dunk _a lot_ last night. Maybe he had: he couldn't remember.

Wherever he was the room was small; a single bed that he was sat on and a table. No personal effects, no photographs or other hints about who lived here. There were two doors. Somehow Ianto knew one of them led to an ensuite bathroom, the other to a long white corridor, segmented by similar doors. But despite its rather pathetic size the room was surprisingly homely. The walls were a warm yellow in colour, with matching white and yellow curtains and bedspread. All in all it looked rather like a typical room you could find in most cheap hotels throughout the centuries. (After all, why change something that worked?)

Ianto felt like he'd been here before, but at the same time the place didn't feel familiar. Maybe if he could see outside…

He got up, intending to walk over to what he assumed was a window behind the curtains, but before he'd even taken a step the door collapsed downwards (as they did from the 40th century onwards when an authorised person scanned their palm against the surface) to reveal a shadow in the doorway.

"Sleep well?" the shadow asked.

"_Are you okay?" a deep voice asked, breaking the deafening silence the TARDIS had left behind._

_Ianto jumped, snapping his eyes open as he span around. (He'd shut them as the TARDIS faded; not to block out the sight but rather the reality. This new reality.)_

"_Who-" he started to demand as his eyes registered a sinister-looking shadow as the source of the voice._

"_Relax," said the shadow, effectively cutting him off as he stepped into the light. "I'm a friend of your Doctor's."_

_Ianto couldn't help but stare for a minute at the man, who aside from being tall and scary was absolutely gorgeous. Blonde hair, amber eyes and the physique of a medium heavyweight. It was hardly surprising however: genetic modification had been legalised in 2900 for human use on Earth, and even though that law was rescinded by the 32__nd__ century, the damage had already been done. Parents had selected all the most 'desirable' traits for their children-to-be. Aesthetic preferences for future partners took care of the rest. The result was a species made for brochures and commercials, smiling prettily at the camera._

_Sometimes Mr. Jones was disgusted by humanity. Sometimes he forgot he was part of it._

_Of course cross-breeding with other species had thrown a spanner in the works, but that was a whole other story._

"_He's not _my_ Doctor." Mr. Jones bit out as soon as he'd stopped staring, his anger about the situation not quite gone, not yet suppressed. He didn't bother to feel embarrassed about looking though; the other man had clearly been doing the same._

"_Of course not, forgive me," the man quickly replied, but it sounded more like he was humouring him than anything else._

_They stood in silence for a few seconds._

"_So…umm…you must be…?" Ianto finally prompted, once again bemoaning the Time Lord's method of introducing him properly into the 51__st__ century._

"_Agent Vorn," the man replied, smirking slightly as he stepped closer again, arm extended. Mr. Jones promptly repressed a shudder at the knowledge that this man was a Time Agent, (he'd got over his preconceptions…almost) and shook the offered hand. Vorn's grip was hard and fierce, and Ianto immediately knew he was being sized up. A lesser man would have squeezed back, but Vorn's overly muscled body was enough of a warning to keep his own grip firm but non-threatening. He was well aware of his own limits, even with all the running and working out on the TARDIS, but knew he'd have to learn to pick his battles. With the Doctor it had been "The bigger they are, the harder they fall", and it had hardly mattered if he'd died in the process. Now though…he didn't fancy getting himself killed over something petty only to revive and become the Time Agency's latest project. It would be a way in, of course, but he rather fancied being able to get out again._

_Vorn smirked wider, apparently pleased at his handshaking skills._

"_And what's _your_ name?"_

"What's your name?"

"Tony Migitario," Ianto's mouth responded before his brain could and he clamped a hand over the offending item. But the words continued, like a pre-programmed, automatic response running through his mind.

_Personal Identity Number: 438908735-21_

_I live at 29 Cosslatters' Place, Lapso Community, Continent Argenta, Earth Colony IX…_

_My birth-mother's name was Evlyn, my Mam's name was Tullen, they died almost a year ago now in the attempted Sontaran invasion…_

…and so on and so forth. Every little mundane detail of living.

But it wasn't just information, there were memories too: an entire other life in his head. Growing up in the 51st century, laughing with his non-human friends on the way to school, kissing a girl outside his front door, trying to ignore the way her tail curled around his leg…

… enrolling with the Time Agency.

"Oh." Ianto exhaled, because that part at least was definitely real, something he – or more accurately _Tony_ – had done, as opposed to another fake memory.

It was strange: he wasn't recollecting these things as much as re-living them, or more accurately living them for the first time. It may have been his body charming the Assessors, signing forms, being tagged, snogging Vorn (Ianto's eyes widened, his lips tingling), walking the streets of the Lapso Community; but it hadn't been _him._ But now it was, and it was somewhat overwhelming.

"Oh _God-_" he cried out as the memories came faster and faster, his mind and body reacting in the present as it should have done in the past, conflicting emotions beating his brain until it was too hard to think. Until it hurt to think.

He barely registered when his legs gave way; it wasn't fainting, or even passing out, but rather there were only so many things he could keep control over at once (even when that control was slipping, slipping-) and apparently his leg muscles were no longer one of them.

He didn't hit the floor because suddenly Vorn was there, a hand around his waist and another around his legs, picking him up and laying him back down on the bed.

"Don't worry…" the Agent said – or at least Ianto presumed it was him, because it was hard to see what was happening when there were other images floating across his vision; his eyes having decided to dump all the information they'd gathered over the last several days into his brain for processing at the same time. "…this happens the first few-"

And then he couldn't hear him over the voices in his head, couldn't smell, couldn't feel, couldn't _anything. _Still conscious, but utterly unaware of anything outside of his own mind as the last week poured in.

TWDWTWDW

"_How do I know I can trust you?" Ianto asked as he followed Agent Vorn through the dark, empty streets of the 51__st__ century. He had no idea where they were, or where they were going, and was starting to feel rather lost. It wasn't a feeling he liked. "How do I even know you're the friend the Doc was talking about?"_

_Vorn didn't even bother to turn around. "You don't." Mr. Jones could hear the smirk in his voice. "But what choice have you got? And I knew where you'd be, recognised the TARDIS."_

"_Ah…" He had to give him that one: no one could see the little/big spaceship unless they were expecting it. "Good point. Where are we going?"_

"_To get you ready for your interview with the Time Agency."_

_Ianto's footsteps halted suddenly in the middle of the road. "What? Now?" he asked._

"_Of course now; you are in possession of no lodgings, no identification, no currency, and only a limited amount of understanding. All these things will be provided by the Time Agency once you qualify."_

_Vorn hadn't bothered to stop walking, so Ianto had to hurry to catch up again. "I see. What if I don't qualify?" Had the Doctor even considered that? Or had he just supposed he'd be able to find another way in?_

"_You'll qualify." Vorn answered assuredly. "You'll be the perfect candidate; we'll make sure of it."_

_Mr. Jones was slightly concerned about the Agent's use of the future tense – the man hadn't said that he _was_ the perfect candidate, but that they'd make him into one, which sounded rather suspicious. Of course, they could just be planning on feeding him model answers, but Ianto had learned to not take anything in the 51__st__ century at face value. Except sex._

_Who, for instance, was this mysterious 'we' Vorn had mentioned? The Doctor had only mention one friend, and he'd assumed this mountain of a man was it. It was likely that it was just an error in the translation though; many languages often conflated the first persons singular and plural in their speech for authority – the British Monarchy for example._

_Suddenly a thought struck him. "Is the TARDIS still translating for me?"_

_Vorn looked over at him. "No, I'm speaking 21__st__ English."_

_Ianto let that sink in for a moment, wondering what that meant for his earlier hypothesising._

"_With a Russian accent?" he asked instead._

_Vorn paused before answering, as if working out what he should and shouldn't say. "I spent some time working undercover during Original Earth's First World War. The accent stuck. We'll get you a translation device as soon as we can."_

"_Oh. Thank you." They carried on walking for a few minutes, until Ianto's mind caught up with his ears. "Wait, you interfered with WW1?"_

_The other man scoffed, "Of course not. Tempted to, but the bosses said no. Too big an event apparently, even though there was only one planet involved. Don't see the problem myself. But no, Observation and Retrieval only: huge quantities of valuable items were destroyed without a trace, and there are no records either. Original Earth relics are worth a very much amount. "_

"_Large," Ianto correctly almost unconsciously. Now that he'd been told he'd noticed more inconsistencies and strange phrases in the Agent's speech, explained by how the man had apparently learned the language from Russian soldiers in the 1900s._

"_Pardon?"_

"'_Are worth a very _large_ amount' of money' would be better grammatically."_

_Vorn smirked at him condescendingly. "Of course. My apologies; it has been a while."_

_Mr. Jones felt suspiciously like he was being ridiculed. He wasn't sure why._

_TWDWTWDW_

_Finally they arrived at what Ianto could only assume had been their destination all along. It wasn't part of the Time Agency, it was far too run down for that. He'd always expected the future to be bright and clean and most of it was. But apparently you could never quite eradicate those dilapidated buildings on the fringes, the ones that slipped through the cracks of government schemes and were taken over by teenagers, drug lords and evil masterminds. Ianto wasn't sure which of those options seemed most likely. Or which he'd prefer._

_Instead of scanning his palm when he approached, Vorn simply grabbed the door by convenient handholds, and lifted it out of the way._

"_Not here legally then?" Ianto couldn't help but quip._

"_Get in." Vorn replied sharply, but his lips quirked up ever so slightly, belying his tone._

_Ianto did as he'd been asked (ordered) and stepped into what disturbingly looked to be the lair of a mad scientist, illuminated only by the daylight streaming through the now empty doorway. Evil masterminds were looking more likely each second. He turned around just in time to see the other man put the door back into place, plunging the entire area into darkness once more._

_Ianto immediately tensed, and for the first time in a long while he fought the urge to reach for a gun that wasn't there. The Doctor hadn't let him carry a gun ("Guns are dangerous," he'd said. "People get hurt when there are guns around." Mr. Jones hadn't replied: "People get hurt when we're around," even though it was true, but instead pointed out that a sonic screwdriver was quite capable of burning through a rope holding a piano in mid-air (Aliens watched far too much slapstick) thereby dropping it on a man, and how was that better than shooting him?) After a while though it hadn't mattered because he'd been _safe _with the Time Lord. Now on the other hand, he was alone (almost), vulnerable (or at least not invulnerable) and entirely in the dark (both literally and figuratively speaking). Suddenly Ianto found himself missing the Doctor._

_But then a hand landed on his neck and thoughts like that disappeared._

_Mr. Jones span around, plunging an elbow into something soft and fleshy that went "_Ooof_" before striking out with a foot towards the sound. It connected with a _Thwap! _But not before a hand had grabbed his ankle and somewhat lessened the impact. He shoved a fist outward, hoping to disorientate his attacker but the hand tightened and twisted, sending him off balance so that his arm went past his attacker and Ianto suddenly found himself turned away from his opponent, heading swiftly towards the floor. _

_However, instead of the strike any decent enemy would have inflicted two arms wrapped around him: one around his waist halting his fall and pressing him back into a warm muscled chest; the other curled loosely around his throat as an implied warning._

"_Jumpy, aren't you?" Vorn's rumbling voice breathed into his ear as Ianto suddenly realised just who it was effectively cocooning him. He groaned in disbelief as he let his body relax: he'd just attacked a Time Agent, and the only ally he currently had in this century. He really wasn't doing so well on the whole adjusting thing. _

"_Sorry," he apologised quickly. "I'm not used to…" he trailed off, unsure exactly what to say. He'd meant to say 'touch', but that wasn't true, because the Doc had been a rather tactile person – grabbing his hands, grasping his shoulders and pinching his cheeks. So it couldn't have been that. But at the same time it was, because although he hadn't minded the Time Lord doing things like that, it had only been _him_. It wasn't like there'd been anyone else on board, and the majority of other people who'd touched him had been hostile, and swiftly learnt to keep their hands to themselves. It was normal, human interaction he'd been denied, until a hand on the shoulder from someone he couldn't see had become a signal of attack, rather than a friendly reassurance._

_But he could hardly voice that to the man behind him, whose touch was both these things at once and therefore quite confusing. A paradox of a man, both friend and foe and yet unable to be either._

"_I'm not used to…people," he finished lamely instead._

_Vorn slowly released his grip, which Ianto took as a positive sign; that even if the Agent didn't understand he could be still be understanding._

"_Never apologise for good instincts and reflexes, even if your technique leaves many things to be desired. Where did you learn to fight?"_

"_Urr...Bond movies and grappling with…" _Jack_ "…friends."_

_Vorn snorted behind him as the arm finally disappeared from around his waist, leaving him unanchored in the darkness, the warm breath against his neck his only marker for the Agent's continued presence. "Unlearn it, quickly."_

_Ianto nodded before realising this was a redundant gesture with the absence of light. "Of course" he replied, (that Vorn knew who James Bond was didn't come of much of a surprise; the remakes were still going strong on 60__th__ century Earth, the plots still basically the same just on other planets, and the Bond girls and villains decidedly non-human) before quickly moving on to more pertinent questions."What are we doing here? And where is _here _exactly?"_

"_Ayeay," said Vorn. _

_The room was abruptly illuminated as the lights came on, presumably triggered by whatever had just been said._

_Mr. Jones yelped._

_The Agent smirked._

_The woman directly in front of them blinked._

"_No need for alarm," she reassured him, her voice soft and melodic but with a distinct American accent._

_Ianto stubbornly refused to stop being alarmed. Vorn clapped him on the shoulder before shaking him up a bit._

"_Kid, this is Professor Heimgard, and she's your way into the Agency, so be nice."_

_Mr. Jones frowned, partially because the Doctor hadn't mentioned this professor, but mostly because the Time Agent had just called him '_kid'. _And unless he was very much mistaken Vorn was roughly the same age as him._

"_And just how old are you exactly?" he asked, letting his annoyance bleed into his tone._

_Vorn just smirked. "Old enough."_

_Heimgard rolled her eyes before swiftly settling into professional mode._

"_You'll need to be seated for this," she advised, gesturing to what looked disturbingly like the autopsy table that had once been in the Torchwood Three Hub. Ianto didn't think about that, or what it meant, and simply hopped up onto the table with Vorn coming to stand next to him._

"_For what exactly?"_

"_Didn't Agent Vorn here explain?" the professor asked, and he couldn't help but pick up on a certain disdain in the way she'd said 'Agent'. Vorn pointedly looked away. She sighed and picked up a strange metal cylinder from a nearby table. It was about 10cm long and had a small metal funnel sticking out of one end. "It's called a mindstamp, and it's perfectly safe; the Agency uses them all the time."_

_Ianto raised an eyebrow; from what he'd seen so far the Time Agency thought it perfectly safe to send homicidal maniacs bouncing around the universe wearing period military coats and doing whatever they pleased._

_He didn't mention that though, and instead asked: "What does it do?"_

_Heimgard smiled at him reassuringly. "Literally what it says on the tin." _

_Ianto was fairly surprised to hear that phrase come out of her mouth, but could only assume that she also had picked up her English from Original Earth or been taught it by Vorn. Before he could comment however (on either the phrase or what it actually meant) she had lifted up the metal cylinder and jammed it funnel first straight onto the middle of his forehead._

"_Ow," he complained, although it didn't really hurt._

_She smiled at him again, the same smile that dentists use before they start drilling into your mouth._

"_It's easier this way," she said. "Everything will be explained for you, and afterwards you'll retain that knowledge. You'll thank us later."_

_Usually when people said that that meant whatever was about to happen next would be deemed 'not something to be thankful for'. Ianto wondered what that could possibly be before a deep ache started building in his temple, spreading out from the metal thing still pressed against it and resonating not outwards but inwards, until all he could feel was a burning circle lancing through his mind, pushing his own thoughts out until there was a large vacuum inside his head, just waiting to be filled. And it _hurt. _With the small part of his mind that was still coherent he briefly wondered if this was what dying felt like, until he realised that it wasn't._

_This felt much, much worse._

_And then Ianto didn't feel at all, because Ianto was gone, and someone else entirely was sitting in his place._

TBC

**Hmm, didn't mean to leave you with another cliffhanger, but it seemed like a good place to end. Questions you may have should be answered in the next few chapters.**

**Reviews and concrit would be greatly appreciated :)  
**


	36. Chapter 36

***BEGS FOR FORGIVENESS***

**Yes, it needed capitals. I am the worst author ever. I seem to have fallen out of the TW fandom - so if anyone would like to recommend to me any _really good _preferably Janto fics I would be most appreciative.  
**

**Also, this chapter's probably a bit scrappy, but I didn't want to leave you guys waiting any longer. But do feel free to point out any mistakes and such.  
**

**Oh, and this is alllll flashback.  
**

**Warnings: more swearing than usual, bad grammar and 51st century morals.  
**

**PREVIOUSLY: (also in a flashback :P) having been left by the Doctor, Ianto meets Agent Vorn, who takes him to a warehouse where Proffessor Heimgard - random scientist - sticks a metal thing onto his forehead and...  
**

_With the small part of his mind that was still coherent he briefly wondered if this was what dying felt like, until he realised that it wasn't._

_This felt much, much worse._

_And then Ianto didn't feel at all, because Ianto was gone, and someone else entirely was sitting in his place._

Chapter 36

_Tony Migitario woke up, blinked, and promptly became very confused. Mostly this was because he was wearing clothes that weren't his, sitting a lab he was sure he hadn't entered, staring at two people he didn't recognize._

_The man was tall and very muscular, the kind of build who usually kicked Tony's backside when he got into a fight. He was also gorgeous: not Tony's usual type, but attractive nonetheless with those amber eyes and slicked back blonde hair. The woman on the other hand was small, almost petite with a scholarly air about her. Her light brown hair was tucked up into a bun onto of her head, her dark blue eyes peering curiously at him. Both of them looked to be in their late twenties, but in that way that said that age had been bought in a gel and rubbed into their faces for the last ten years or so. Tony knew that look well; his Mam had used the stuff religiously to look 30, whilst his Mother had been happy to age naturally, joking that soon enough people would accuse her of being a cradle-snatcher._

_They'd both looked their age when he'd had to identify the bodies._

_Quickly enough Tony felt the familiar anger begin to course through him, adding to the confusion he was already suffering from and building into a heady mix._

_And then he noticed the woman had a hand on his face._

"_What the fuck?" he cried out, causing a look of alarm to pass over the strangers faces before he jumped up and pushed passed them both until he was standing in his own space, eyes wild as he took in his situation._

"_Wasn't he was supposed to black out?" the woman asked the other man, both of them now entirely ignoring him._

"_You're the expert," the man replied, sounding the much calmer of the two. "That's why I asked you here." _

"_And I told you I'd never done a full personality transfer before! There are laws against this kind of thing!"_

_"I thought nobody even believed it was possible."_

_"They don't, and they still made laws against it; now what does that tell you?" __the woman practically hissed._  


_ "You told _him_ the Agency did this sort of thing all the time."_

_"Sort of thing, yes. Same thing, no." _

_"_You're_ the one who lied," accussed the man.  
_

_"Hey!" Tony tried to interrupt pointedly._

_He was ignored again._

_"_You're _the one who asked me to."_

_"You didn't have to come."_

_"Of course I did." The woman huffed. "You would have blown his brains out!" _

_Tony could hear her frustration mounting, but he was fairly sure it was nowhere near his own levels yet - especially considering that last statement._

_"Sure it wasn't because I said please?" the man leered in reply. "You could never resist when I beg-"_

_"Oh piss-"_

_ "Oi!" Tony shouted in yet another attempt to bring the situation back under his control. "I asked a question!"_

_"Yes Vorn, the nice man asked a question, why don't you answer it?"_

_Vorn bit out a false smile at the lady (who promptly stalked off to another part of the lab) before turning back to Tony. _

_"Of course I'll answer all your questions Mr. Migitario. Please excuse my colleague; she hasn't been getting any recently."_

_Tony began to calm down slightly at the promise of answers, and resisted a smirk at the comment, not missing the way the woman glared over at them – there was definitely some history between these two._

_"Tell me Mr. Migitario," continued the man as he swept a fallen lock of hair back behind his eyes. And it was then that Tony realised that what he'd thought was simply a bracelet around his wrist was actually a Vortex Manipulator, which couldn't mean anything good. "What's the last thing you remember?"_

_Tony blinked. "I…what?"_

_"Where were you before you were here? What were you thinking about?"_

_"They're dead." Tony blurted out before he could stop himself. Granted that the Agency probably knew anyway, but it was personal. Although it wasn't a lie; it had most certainly been the last think he'd thought about._

_"Yes; Evlyn and Tullen Migitario, your parents. What else? What about more recently?"_

_But Tony wasn't listening anymore; he was thinking about that damned day again. He was always thinking about it, even though it had been a year ago now. It was the first thing he thought when he woke up in the mornings in the filthy motels he'd been bunking in since he'd lost everything. It was what he'd been thinking about when he'd submitted an application to the Time Agency, what he'd been thinking about when he'd received a reply; a request to come in to the Agency's main on-planet base to be interviewed. It was what he'd been thinking about when he'd gone through the red light at the crossroads until there'd been a sickening crunch and he'd thought no more._

_"Holy fuck…" Tony staggered backwards into the table. "There was an accident…I remember…I thought I was dead!"_

_Vorn smiled reassuringly._

_"You were for a little while there; and what do they do when you're dead Mr. Migitario?"_

_Tony grabbed hold of the table for balance and slowly pulled himself upright as the pieces started to click together._

_"They take a mindprint for the memory banks, so that if the Agency needs to use your memories they can, even though you're dead."_

_"Good. See, you're remembering."_

_Tony looked up just in time to see the other stranger, the woman, roll her eyes from where she was mixing chemicals a few tables over. He didn't like that look._

_"But I'm alive."_

_"Yes." Vorn was starting to sound frustrated. "They took a mindprint, but then they managed to bring you back."_

_Tony looked down at his silk shirt clad torso._

_"This ain't my body."_

_"Well no; your body's still partially paralysed Tony – can I call you Tony? – and your interview with the Agency is tomorrow. Obviously we can't interview you if you can't walk or talk properly, and the Assessors are very busy people, so it's not like they can just reschedule. But we didn't want you to miss out, so we simply took your mindprint and downloaded it into a new body for the time being."_

_Tony looked down again at the body he now possessed and wiggled his fingers in astonishment._

_"Huh. I didn't think you could do that."_

_"Morally, legally and officially we can't yet Tony. The technology's very new, and even most of the Agency doesn't know of its existence. So that means that whilst you're being interviewed you must not mention what happened to anyone. If asked, you simply thought it time for a new look, and if you see anyone you knew before, you ignore them. Is that clear?"_

_"I can't talk to my friends?" he asked incredulously. He didn't exactly have many friends left, but the thought of being entirely cut away made him feel cold. "Can't I let them know I'm good?"_

_"No."_

_"Why?"_

_Vorn speared him with his amber eyes._

_"This is what you signed up for when you applied to the Agency Tony."_

_"I didn't actually expect you to get back to me! Everyone knows you guys have fucked up recruitment methods! I didn't think…" and he hadn't, not for one second. What would the Agency want with a fuck-up like him? A man who couldn't hold a job more than a week, even in a small community like the Lapso one where everyone helped each other out, especially since the Sontarans had come from the sky and killed half of them. But he'd been useless, and everywhere he'd looked there'd been pity mixed with disgust. 'Orphaned,' some of them had whispered sympathetically. 'Pathetic,' sneered others. 'Half the Community lost their lives and he's wasting his!'_

_"I was so angry; I just wanted outta that damn place!" Where there were still scorch marks on the walls from the invasion, and every time he saw them all he could see were two burnt bodies tangled together, both looking their age. And by God had it made him mad, both with grief and anger._

_"And that's exactly what we're looking for." Vorn cut across his thoughts. "You're still angry, and you still want to get away, and we can offer you what you want. A universe to explore, endless stars to stare at and opportunities to take. A new life every few weeks and a chance to be somebody else. And no one will judge you for being you; all you have to do is leave them all behind. Is that clear?" Vorn repeated, voice almost chilling in its intensity._

_Tony nodded, because that was _exactly_ what he wanted._

_TWDWTWDW_

_A little while later, after the lady – Professor Heimgard as Tony had learned, no first name given even when he'd flirted – had poked, prodded, tested and scanned his new body and brain far too many times, he was finally given the all-clear. And that was when Tony realised he had no idea where he was, or what he was supposed to be doing for this interview he supposedly had tomorrow. It had seemed like the Time Agent had answered his questions at the time, but now it was quite obvious he hadn't. The Agency was slippery like that._

_"What-" he began, only to be cut off by Vorn slapping him on the back._

_"You're done then; off we go." He said, no explanations offered as he grabbed Tony's hand and placed it on top of his Vortex Manipulator. "Hold on tight."_

_"Wait-"_

_"Hey!" This time it was Heimgard interrupting. "I want him in for a check-up in two days time!"_

_"Yes mother," Vorn retaliated, grabbing a small bag he hadn't noticed before sitting casually on a workbench. Before Tony could even begin to form another protest the other man was pushing buttons on his wrist-strap and the world vanished from underneath their feet._

_When they re-materialised there was a cream coloured carpet rapidly approaching his face._

_"Fuck!" Tony cried out seconds before he hit the floor, and was just able to get his arms braced before he landed on his face._

_"Whoops," came a voice from above him, sounding much more put together than his own had been._

_Slowly Tony rolled over and began shoving himself to his knees, ignoring the vicious pain that suddenly shot through his head and glaring rather obviously at the Agent who'd just teleported him without warning._

_"I did tell you to hold on tight," was his only reply. _

_"We couldn't have walked?" he asked angrily._

_"No, would have taken several days. And I needed to see if you could survive travelling through the Vortex unshielded."_

_Tony blinked as he processed that. "Wait, _survived?_ You mean that coulda killed me!"_

_Vorn looked at him in that 'yeah, so what?' way he'd learnt most Time Agents used a lot simply because that was their natural reaction to most things. He'd always wondered what had made them so callous: now he dreaded finding out._

_Slowly however Vorn's face became more compassionate as Tony continued to kneel, his forehead furrowed in pain until the other man stuck out a hand in offering. He grabbed it and let himself be slowly pulled back up until they were face to face again – or at least as much as they could be considering the extra few inches the Agent had on this body._

_Without warning Vorn flashed a penlight into his eye._

_"Ow!" Tony cried out, recoiling both in shock and pain, but he didn't get very far considering Vorn had yet to let go of his arm._

_"Here, swallow this," the other man said, pulling him closer again whilst reaching into his pocket with the other arm and pulling out a small tablet._

_"What's that?" Tony asked warily._

_"Painkiller; will cure that headache of yours, common enough reaction to travelling by one of these-" he tapped his Vortex Manipulator "-the first few times."_

_Tony stared at the innocuous tablet for a few more seconds before slowly, cautiously reaching out to take the thing. He was surprised by its powdery texture._

_"You never seen one of those before?" Vorn asked._

_Tony shook his head, still staring._

_"They only have hyper-injections in Lapso."_

_"Same in most places now; tablets' have been obsolete for several centuries, but the Agency still uses them because Customs get iffy about taking needles into neutral territories; say someone could get hurt or something!"_

_At that Vorn abruptly began to laugh; a high pitched _giggle_ which entirely took over him for several minutes. Tony could only assume it was some kind of private joke, and looking at Vorn's very well muscled and heavily armed form, he could begin to see what it might be._

_Whilst the Agent was otherwise preoccupied Tony swallowed the tablet, and took a chance to survey the room. It looked very much like a hotel room; bed, table, kitchenette to one side, a door which he presumed led to an en-suite bathroom, and the necessary pictures of the sea-side. It was also a bit yellow._

_Suddenly Vorn's laughter cut off and he asked: "Are you done?" as if _he_ had been waiting for _Tony_ to finish._

_Tony just nodded. _

_"At least you haven't thrown up: there may be hope for you yet."_

_And just like that the concern that had been briefly present fled, and Tony's utter confusion reared its head again._

_"What's going on now then?"_

_"This is your stop."_

_"Huh?"_

_"It's your hotel room."_

_Tony looked around at the homely yellow room and frowned._

_"I didn't book this."_

_"Well no, you were in a coma, so I took the liberty."_

_"Oh, well thanks and all that, but I can't pay for this."_

_Unexpectedly Vorn laughed again, a deep and chuckling thing that sounded more like it should belong to an old man nursing a pint and smoking a cigar than to a relatively young Time Agent. He was starting to form the opinion that this Agent was slightly cracked._

_"Who said you needed to?"_

_It took Tony a second to cotton on. Vorn just smirked._

_"Rule Number Four of the Time Agency; if you're not forced to pay: don't."_

_"I've been living by that for a while already." Tony grinned back. " Any other rules I should know about?"_

_"Rule Number One: the universe doesn't give two hoots about logic, so don't expect it to. Rule Number Three: have lots of sex, but don't litter your sprogs around the Timestream otherwise you might become your own granddaddy. Although Rule One often prevents that being a problem. If the Agency accepts you you'll be given a shot preventing you from receiving or giving all known diseases – sexually transmitted or otherwise. Don't want you getting the Black Death, or starting it."_

_The Agent stopped then, as if waiting for him to say something, but what the hell was one meant to say to _that?

_"Wait, what's rule number two?"_

_Vorn hesitated. "You don't want to know." And he promptly changed the subject. "I'll pick you up tomorrow then; your alarm's already set and there's an outfit for you here…"_

_At this he started rifling through the bag Tony had noticed him grab, a bag which looked quite worn as well as retro – or maybe not retro, factoring Time Travel into that equation. After a few seconds he pulled out a deep blue silk shirt and chucked it onto the bed._

_"Wear that shirt tomorrow with what you've got on now and you'll be fine. There's clean underwear and toiletries in here." Vorn did the bag back up and it followed the shirt onto the bed._

_Tony frowned at it. The shirt was almost a match for the red one he was currently wearing, the one that wasn't his. And the bag quite obviously wasn't Vorn's (who was sporting a sort of shiny black camouflage for some reason he couldn't quite work out) so that meant… _

_"Whose bag…whose stuff is this?" he asked anyway._

_Vorn looked at him. "_His_," he replied, gesturing firmly towards Tony's body._

_Tony thought about that for a second._

_"Who is he?"_

_"Not your problem."_

_"I'm _in_ his body! I think it kinda fucking is!"_

_There was a pause, and then:_

_"Would you rather be in somebody else's body?" Vorn leered, and Tony realised there was no way he was going to get a proper answer, especially when the Agent was looking at him with those big amber eyes and that pretty face, turning up his pheromones in that annoying way Time Agents were somehow able to, and quite obviously expecting him to blush, back off and let the man leave._

_So he didn't. Instead he stalked over to the other man, pushed him back against the wall (Vorn might have been a mountain of muscle, but Tony had the element of surprise) and proceeded to thoroughly ravish his mouth for a good few minutes. It was going extremely well until he moved down towards the Agent's pulse point and the man decided to talk._

_"We shouldn't," Vorn breathed – sounding annoyingly composed – into the air, pushing Tony back slightly to lend some sort of credence to his words, even when the slight bulge in his trousers said differently._

_"Why the fuck not? This some other messed up rule you haven't told me about?"_

_"No, just…not your body."_

_Tony looked down at himself, at arms that were a shade lighter than usual, a body just a little bit slimmer, feet a few sizes smaller…_

_"It is now."_

_Vorn shook his head. "You're borrowing it."_

_"I'm sure he won't mind."_

_"I think he will. I won't do that to him."_

_"He a friend of yours?"_

_"No."_

_"So it's not your problem."_

_"I promised I'd look after him."_

_"Oh for fuck's sake- I'll just find someone else who doesn't know then!" Tony cried out, frustrated (in several ways) beyond belief. But before he could move away Vorn grabbed his arm._

_"No you won't, because it wouldn't be right and you know it. He didn't consent to this."_

_"I thought you guys didn't have morals! Brilliant time to find some. Bloody hell, my own body's half paralysed you said; it'll be ages 'til I get laid."_

_"Not my fault."_

_"Yeah it is. Who is this guy anyway?" he asked again, even though asking it before has lead to this exact situation. "What kind of idiot lets someone use his body like this? If he'd consent to this I'm sure he'd consent to some backseat sex."_

_For a second Tony could have sworn that the Time Agent looked guilty, and promptly stepped back away from those delicious pheromones._

_"Wait, this fucker did consent to have me running round his head right?"_

_There was a pause._

_"Not exactly."_

_ "Bloody hell." Tony ran a hand through his – no, somebody else's hair. "You shoulda lied to me; I did not want to know that!"_

_Vorn just stared at him, cool and blank as always, decidedly not looking like he was being denied fantastic sex, or had just been snogged rather well if Tony did say so himself. The perfect antithesis to his own character. He was going to be a rubbish Time Agent._

_"You at least gonna pay the guy?"_

_"In manner of speaking."_

_"Fuck. Thought you said you promised to look after him."_

_"I am," replied Vorn as he pushed off the wall, moving towards and then out of the door. "Go get a cold shower."_

_"Go fuck yourself!" Tony shouted down the corridor at his retreating back, but did as he was told anyway._

_It was awkward, as now he felt guilty even just innocently undressing the body he was in. Afterwards though he stared at himself in the mirror for a long time._

_The Other Man – as Tony had started thinking of him – had a solemn face containing strangely old blue eyes, a high forehead and a rather cute nose. Dark brown hair was starting to curl around his ear, and he was in surprisingly good shape considering the boyish like quality he still seemed to possess. He wondered what this guy could possibly have done to have ended up playing host to somebody else's consciousness. Whatever it was, it must have _really_ pissed the Time Agency off._

_Tony sighed. "Who are you?" he asked the mirror wretchedly.  
_

_As expected, the Other Man didn't reply._

TBC

**I hope it's been worth the wait and wasn't too confusing; as always concrit and reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	37. Chapter 37

**I should think you're all tired of my apologies now, so have some more! And you know, feel free to poke me with a very pointy stick if it's been more than three weeks without an update.**

**Mostly OCs again, but not entirely. I still own nothing but the mistakes - and the OCs, but don't bother keeping track of them too much, most of them will probably die bizarre and gruesome offscene deaths.  
**

**And on that cheerful note:  
**

**_Previously: flashback to missing week of Ianto's memory where his body is being inhabited by Tony Migitario. Tony has been taken to a hotel to stay in by Agent Vorn before his interview with the Agency the next day._  
**

Chapter 37

_Vorn picked him up next morning as promised, signalling his arrival by teleporting straight into the middle of the room and chuckling hysterically for a few minutes because:_

"_You scream like a man from Tivoli!"_

_(Nobody ever accused anyone of screaming like a little girl anymore, because quite frankly, little girls were _scary_ when they screamed.)_

"_Do not." Tony huffed, but Vorn was off in his own little laughing world again. Granted, he probably had screamed like a Tivolian, but what did you expect when a mad Time Agent appeared suddenly behind you and went "Boo!"?_

_At least he hadn't been naked. No, there had been no chance of that, since the alarm that Vorn had mentioned the night before (and when Vorn had said alarm, he'd really meant klaxon) had woken him up before the third moon had even set. Suffice to say Tony had not been best pleased, especially as he'd only dropped off about two hours beforehand. Apparently sleep didn't come easy when you were trapped in someone else's body, a body which just didn't want to relax, whose fingers were itching for something to _do_, feet wanting to _run_, and his own mind just wouldn't _shut the fuck up! _So many questions about what was going on pounding through his brain like a hoard of angry Tiggers._

What will the interview be like? What will happen if I get in? Do I even want to get in? Can you quit the Time Agency? Do they have a good dental plan? Will I…?

_It was the first time in a year he hadn't drifted off thinking of burnt bodies tangled together, both looking their age._

_Tony came out of his thoughts to realise Vorn had stopped laughing, and probably quite a while ago at that considering the way he was staring at him._

"_Ready to go?" the Agent finally asked when the staring had long gone past what was socially acceptable outside of the Galactic Staring Day._

"_No." Tony replied honestly._

"_And you never will be. So let us be off."_

"_Wait, where-?"_

_But of course Tony never finished his sentence, because Vorn had grabbed him, smirked like a lunatic and teleported them far, far away._

_TWDWTWDW_

"_Would you stop fucking doing that?" Tony shouted as soon as he'd picked himself off the floor again – a nice white tiled room this time, hard and cold to the touch – or more accurately, the face. The place smelt of disinfectant, and was only about ten metres in both height and width. There were also no visible entrances or exits._

"_And what would '_that'_ be?" The Agent replied, not even bothering to attempt to sound innocent._

"_Teleporting me without telling me what the fuc-"_

"_Maybe," Vorn cut him off, "you should pay better attention. In fact, you should, preferably before you end up dead. Again."_

_There was an angry retort at the tip of Tony's tongue, but he bit it back for some reason and nodded instead._

"_Good. Now strip."_

_Tony blinked. "What?" he asked eloquently._

_Vorn raised an eyebrow. "Are you deaf?"_

"_No, it was more a 'what the fuck for?' kind of 'what?'"_

"_Do you want to get sick?"_

"_Do you always ask such moronic questions?"_

"_Only to morons. Now, if you don't want to die a slow and painful death…strip."_

_Tony glared, but did as he was told. The last sentence hadn't actually sounded much like a threat – and a bizarre one at that; strip…or death? (up there with 'cake or death?' and 'death or plumbing?') – Tony had long since learned to translate most things Time Agents said as threats._

_So he took off his clothes; slowly and carefully peeling himself out of one layer at a time, because shirts like this deserved to be respected. And if his casual strip-tease got Vorn all hot and bothered…all the bloody better. _

_So of course the Agent looked just as unruffled as ever, even as he handed him the last of his clothes._

"_What's that?" he asked, pointing at Tony's chest._

_Tony looked down._

"_Looks like a key."_

_And indeed it did. A simple gold key hung around his neck on a ball chain. A perfectly, completely, utterly ordinary key. Except…it hadn't been there when he'd got dressed. But then again, maybe it had. Now that Tony thought about it it must have been, for he certainly hadn't put it on this morning. It was an easy thing to overlook, an innocuous thing like that, such an absolutely ordinary thing…_

_Tony frowned._

"_Hell, this thing's in my fucking head!"_

_For it wasn't a normal key in the slightest; outdated by at least a century in a world that had very little use for keys of any kind at all. They were collectors' items now: twentieth century enthusiasts would pay a small fortune to own one of these things, or more likely would pay someone else a small fortune to steal it for them. Tony had only ever seen one of them in his life before, in a museum surrounded by lots of other expensive old junk. He hadn't thought it looked like much then, despite all the glittery lights and holographic demonstrations of its use._

_But he could tell that this key was something special, partly because as he's just exclaimed, it was in his head and screaming about how ordinary it was._

_Mostly though, it was because this key seemed to shimmer in the light. He felt drawn to it, unable to resist running a finger around its edge and shivering at the faint spike of heat that burst through the metal at his touch. He didn't think he'd seen anything so beautiful in his life._

_Tony frowned._

_Vorn smirked._

"_If you want to keep it you'll have to give it to me."_

_Tony frowned harder._

"_That seems stupid."_

"_Nothing from your old life will be allowed after this week. If they know it's yours it will get taken away."_

"_But it's not even min-"_

"_Doesn't matter. Do you want to keep it?" The Agent fixed him with a stare that quite clearly said he knew what the answer would be, even if Tony himself didn't._

_But Tony did know; it was silly, and risky, and downright fucking insane that a key that didn't even belong to him could mean so much to him, so much that he was willing to hand it over to a madman to try and keep it, not only for himself but from falling into that same madman's bosses' hands. If they knew what they'd got their hands on…_

"_Wait, what is this thing exactly?"_

_Vorn giggled; a nasty nasally thing that made the other man wince, and did nothing to prepare him for Vorn to snatch the key off the chain and disappear through the wall._

"_Hey! Give that back!" _

_Tony moved to follow, only to find that the wall was doing a rather good job at pretending it was solid. He thumped it._

"_Ow!" _

_So maybe it wasn't pretending. _

"_Come back here!"_

_He could hear the Agent still laughing on the other side. Suddenly that wasn't the biggest of his problems however, as just then the ceiling opened, and it began to rain._

_The rain was green._

"_Arrgghhhhhhhhhhh!"_

_And very, very cold._

"_Bastard!"_

_A few minutes later he was thoroughly drenched and even more pissed off as the shower ceased, leaving him cold and naked (and had he mentioned _wet?)_ when one of the walls vanished, revealing a locker room and a still smiling Time Agent behind it._

_Tony growled. "What the fuck?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days._

"_Decontamination. Immunisation. Threw in a little bit of exfoliation for free."_

"_Immuni-what now? I'm clean."_

"_That's what you think. Don't want you getting the Plague do we? Or causing it. That would be awkward. Now dry off, next up's the interrogation."_

"_I thought you said it was an interview!"_

"_Did I? My mistake."_

_Tony glared._

"_Now shut up and dry." Was Vorn's only response save flicking a towel at his butt._

"_Well fuck you."_

_But of course he couldn't, so Tony settled for smacking him back with the towel instead. And the yelp that garnered made him feel pretty damn good._

_At least until he got to the interrogation part._

_TWDWTWDW_

_The room was everything you'd expect from a posh conference room in almost any era, and it was exactly as Tony remembered from a school trip he'd gone on when he was seven. Then, he and his teachers had gone to the Lapso Teleport Centre, where a Time Agent in a bright pink suit had typed in the access codes to make the jump. Not just anyone could get to Agency buildings, even those which were only corporate. Tony remembered feeling special then, looking at all the big chairs in the big room with the pink agent watching over them. It was only many years later, when he saw the same agent (in the same suit) beating up a barman for not having a valid work permit that he realised the Agency was not something special, but something to be avoided at all costs._

_He'd failed in that regard then, several times._

_Now the room seemed just as big as it had back then, but a hundred times more threatening. The entire area was surrounded with transparent walls. Interior designers would say it was to give the place a better atmosphere; light and airy and _open_. In the past that might have been true. In the more recent past it was so everyone who was anyone could see the Important People in the Important Room doing Important Things. In the Time Agency however it was to let you know you were always being watched, and not in a good way. A huge marble table faced him, and behind that were stood three very tall chairs. By all rights they should have made the three people sitting in them seem rather small, but these people weren't Assessors for nothing, and the chairs only made them seem larger than life._

_On the left sat a woman who made the mountain he'd thought of Agent Vorn look like a mere bump on the landscape. She seemed to be sat _over_ the chair rather than on it, and was also covered entirely with tattoos (at least on her unclothed bits, which was all of her save a small red bikini). When she blinked Tony saw she had teeth etched across her eyelids._

_By comparison the other two were almost bland, if Time Agents could ever be called bland. The only man sat on the right, although maybe 'sprawled' would be a better term for it. Slicked back blue hair and matching fingernails clashed with a tartan waistcoat – no shirt –bottle green hot pants and thigh length boots. He seemed entirely disinterested in the whole procedure, choosing to stare through the walls instead._

_The woman in the middle was by far the plainest, yet somehow the most captivating. A trouser suit, pulled back hair and sensible heels made her look every inch the business professional she probably wasn't. It was the look of a winner, someone who didn't need loud clothes (or body) because everyone already knew who she was and what she was capable of. She did however have bright green lipstick on, a perfect match for the piercing eyes Tony was sure were dissecting him._

_None of them looked a day over thirty-five. Another lie._

_All in all, Intimidating People at Intimidating Desk in Intimidating Chairs._

_There was no chair for him though._

"_Please approach. And you must be…?" Green Lips asked._

"_Tony Migitario, ma'am." He replied, adding on the honorific as an afterthought as he stood in front of the table, letting the Other Man's body fall into its default straight-backed position. "And might I say it's a pleasure to be here."_

"_Such a gentleman!" Tattooed Mountain looked up at him coyly (pulling it off alarmingly well), her voice high-pitched and breathy._

_Tony smiled back, tipping his head in deference. Of course he wasn't really a gentleman, but everyone in the room knew that: gentlemen didn't apply for the Time Agency._

"_I'm known as One," the middle lady picked up again, "and these are Two," she gestured to the other lady before looking over to the man, "and Three. And no, before you waste your breath to ask, those aren't our real names. And now to business." She tapped her desk, bringing up several pages of holographic data files that Tony could see the Other Man's face on. "So, Mr. Migitario, what do you know about the Time Agency?"_

"_Just what everyone know ma'am."_

_Three rolled his eyes._

"_Please elaborate," prompted One._

"_Urr, well, it was founded sometime in late 40__th__ centuries, no one quite knows when, as a minor police force-"_

"_That's not what we meant kid," interrupted Two. Tony tried not to growl at being addressed in such a way. "What do you know about the Time Agency _now?_ How does it all work? What do we actually do? How do we do it? Who's in charge?"_

"_Umm…ah…well…I…" he thought about it for a minute, stuttering his way through half-formed words and growing more nervous by the second as he felt One and Two's eyes (and possibly Two's teeth) on him. "I don't know." He finally admitted._

_One grinned, as if that had been exactly the answer she'd been looking for._

"_Exactly, and that's the way it works," she said, her green lips still curled up. "The Agency only works because nobody asks questions. The Agency is what the Agency does what the Agency wants. You'll be set tasks, the context of which you will not be told, and expected to complete them through whatever means necessary. If you get captured we will not rescue you. If you get killed we will not claim you. Any questions?"_

"_What, what about the law?" Tony stuttered, struggling to keep up but remembering the pink agent again. "Don't you enforce that?"_

_Two grinned. "Well of course kid, but only as much as we bend it."_

"_But you don't need to worry about that anyway, we hear you expressed a preference in being part of Retrieval."_

"_I did?" Tony gaped, for although no one really knew what went on at the Agency everyone knew that Retrieval was the front lines, and to apply there you had to be either desperate or batshit crazy. Or both. Much better to apply to something relatively safe like Intelligence or Observation, or even Recruitment like he supposed Vorn was in._

_How drunk had he been when he'd filled out that bloody form?_

_One looked at him as if she knew what he was thinking._

"_Don't worry, we'll make sure someone looks after you."_

_And that was all that was said on the subject._

"They'll try to trick you, trip you up, ask stupid or outrageous questions. Don't get angry, that's their job. And whatever you do, don't lie."

_That had been the first and last piece of advice Vorn had offered him, and it really hadn't been of much help through the interview (interrogation) so far. But Vorn hadn't steered him (completely) wrong yet, so when after a barrage of increasingly difficult and insane questions which Tony blundered his way through One asked: "Why did you apply here Mr. Migitario?" he decided to tell the truth._

"_I'm running away from my old life. I was told you could give me a new one."_

_At that, Three finally looked over a him, fixing him with dead white eyes for a few seconds as the other two went silent. And then he spoke for the first time, his voice unexpectedly several decades older than the others and several more than his face._

"_Dear boy" he rasped as Tony tried not to squirm. "We can give you much more than a new life. We can give you _hundreds._"_

_And Three smiled, a kind, gap-toothed smile that clashed ever worse with his body than his clothes did to his hair, but Tony couldn't resist smiling ever so slightly back._

_TWDWTWDW_

_When he left the room Agent Vorn was waiting for him._

"_Congratulations." He said without preamble._

_Tony blinked in surprise._

"_I got in?"_

"_Of course."_

"_But they said they'd reach a decision in a few days."_

"_Yeah, they say that. But if they weren't going to take you on they wouldn't have interviewed you."_

"_So that was for nothing?"_

"_Nah, that was to make sure they got the right guy."_

"_And what if I hadn't been the right guy?"_

"_We wouldn't be having this conversation."_

_A shiver went down Tony's back. Of course Vorn could have just meant that they'd be having a different conversation, but the look in his eyes was a lot darker. Added to that how he'd never heard of anyone who'd been rejected from an interview and the Agency's rather brutal reputation, and Tony didn't think he'd misunderstood. "Oh. So what's the rest of the week for?"_

_Vorn smirked at him before pushing himself off the wall._

"_To see if you survive."_

"_Well fuck."_

_Vorn kept on walking._

"_Where we going?"_

"_To meet the others idiots who applied for a job."_

_Tony sighed and followed Vorn down a long winding corridor back to the outside world. It was a corporate world though, so the outside looked very much like the corridor they'd just left, i.e. dull with lots of doors leading to other unknown establishments._

"_You didn't answer my question: _where_ are we going?"_

"_Headquarters." The Agent finally replied, pausing in the middle of the road and staring up at the beige sky. He started fiddling with his wristband._

"_We're teleporting again aren't we?" Tony realised._

"_Now you're getting it!"_

"_Can't we walk?" he moaned in dread, not keen on the idea of being demolecularised so soon after lunch, or at all to be honest._

"_You have a talent for walking several light-years through space to an unknown location you haven't mentioned so far?"_

_Tony blinked in surprise. "You don't know where you're going?"_

"_It's a spaceship. It _moves_." At Tony's continuing baffled look he continued. "It's not like we can have a proper HQ is it, what with most of us being out of sync in the Timelines. Agency only uses buildings for the corporate stuff; they're too unreliable when you're hopping through decades. Ship's a bit better, lasts longer, and the co-ordinates are automatically updated through these whenever we jump," he tapped his Manipulator before continuing, "as long as you're a valid user, which means it's bio-locked and requires about five levels of access to confirm. Don't try to get to the ship via any other route or you'll be killed on sight. And that's if you manage to find it considering we jump ships every few hundred years."_

"_Must be a very big ship."_

"_I wouldn't know. Apart from in your first few weeks you won't spend much time on ship unless you have some down-time coming up, and we debrief there once a month linear. Your Manipulator will be your life off-ship, orders, messages and most other things come through it, and if you lose it you're fired, and also likely to be stranded in some backwater century. No one will come for you and few people will care. You got all that."_

"_So that's why Jack never took his off."_

"…_who?" Vorn frowned at him._

_Tony blinked. "Who what?"_

"_You said 'Jack never took his off'."_

"_Didn't." he replied, because he was sure he would have remembered saying something as strange as that. "Who the fuck's Jack?"_

"_You're the one who mentioned him."_

"_Did not; you just said 'Jack never took his off'. He a fuck buddy of yours?"_

"_No, you said it firs…fuck this, forget it and hold on tight."_

_Tony frowned at the Agent for a few more seconds before brushing the incident off as one of the other man's peculiar little quirks and doing as he was told._

_After all, it wasn't like it was important or anything, was it?_

_TWDWTWDW_

The Present

On the bed in the hotel room Ianto flinched, and Vorn turned his eyes away from his game of Angry Bird-People© v5 he had up on his Manipulator until they rested on the younger man. He didn't look good. His face was covered in a thin film of sweat, his body shuddering every few seconds and his fingers twitching.

Vorn sighed and called Heimgard.

"I'm busy, asshole," her hologram greeted him, clearly at her lab doing boring lab-y stuff.

"It's the kid."

"You know a lot of kids – I'm not interested in your recent conquests."

"The one whose brain we're possibly destroying."

That got her attention. She flicked her dark blue eyes up at him

"Ah yes, that one. How's he holding up?"

"He fell into some kinda trance when the memories started coming back; he seemed alright before that, just rather disorientated. He's running a slight temperature, shaking and muttering and stuff."

"Huh. Well, that sounds fairly normal, except that I have no idea what's normal considering this has never been done before!" The professor tapped a stylus against her forehead, a nervous tick he knew she hated. "We imprinted a whole other personality on top of this guy Vorn, enough to take control of his body! I mean…it's mind-blowing."

"Literally?"

"…hopefully not, but I just don't know. Just keep an eye on him, make him drink something but don't wake him up; he should do it in his own time if he's going to do it at all."

"Great, thanks for the _expertise_ Heimgard."

"Asshole-"

Vorn hung up and looked back to the inert form on the bed. His eyes were still open, which was kind of freaky, so he walked over to close them. They looked up at him for a second, empty.

_Lights are on but nobody's home._

The Agent wondered where Mr. Jones was at that moment, and hoped that eventually he'd find his way back. Not that he really cared of course; it would be silly to care about a man he'd only got to know with somebody else's mind. Either way though, the Doctor wouldn't be best pleased if the favour he'd called in ended with a dead Companion.

Vorn sighed and settled in for a game of Building-Breaker©.

TWDWTWDW

_The next place that Tony was picking himself off the floor of was considerably nicer: a lush carpet cushioned his fall, walls of deep crimson and very antiquated furniture gave the place a feel of 'old money'. When Tony flopped onto his back he noticed that he and Vorn weren't alone in the room, partially because of the general hubbub of small talk he could hear, but mostly because there was a hand being proffered to him._

"_First time porting?" asked the hand as Tony grabbed onto it._

_Tony frowned; that voice seemed strangely familiar, but as he was pulled up to face a gorgeous young man – about his own age actually – with a cleft chin and the most compelling blue eyes, he knew they couldn't possibly have met before, because just like the old pick-up line there was no way you could forget a face like _that_._

_His chest constricted. Technically the Other Man's chest constricted, but he'd already started thinking of this body as _his_ again. He couldn't blame it though either way, for Tony felt like he'd stumbled across the meaning of 'love at first sight'. This man seemed utterly perfect, with his dazzling smile (and _really_ white teeth) and a very delicious looking body, all nicely shown off in what appeared to be a 30__th__ century tuxedo. _

_The only problem was he was talking to _Vorn.

"_Nah, kid's done four or five now, still hasn't worked out how to keep his feet." The Agent replied casually._

"_Hmff, not much you can do about that Giggles."_

_Talking to Vorn _about him_, no less, and _as if he wasn't there.

"_Yes, but I have such a good track record with my recruits, as you well know kiddo."_

"_Hey, have you seen this face recently? I'm as old as you now, maybe even older." The new man leered, eyebrows waggling suggestively._

"_I feel dirty. But that's non-linear living for you."_

"_Every day could be my last old man. Got to make the most of it."_

_Oh, and then they were snogging. Life just wasn't fair._

_And he still hadn't let go of Tony's hand, leaving him feel very much like a third wheel._

"_So, who's the eye-candy?" Blue Eyes asked, finally pulling back from both of them and deigning to look at (look over) Tony again.  
_

_Tony felt his body shiver._

"_You know the rules," Vorn replied. "Old names are dead now, he'll be getting his temp shortly."_

"_Huh. What's the theme this time?"_

"_Colours."_

"_Oooh, what are you thinking? Cream? Aquamarine? Although I think red might be more you. Colour of anger and passion."_

_It took Tony a few seconds to process that this vision of perfection was talking to him, perfect white teeth like a path through the dark, and even more seconds to attempt to respond._

"_Urrr…" _

"_Magenta maybe?" Vorn interrupted, and Tony had never felt more simultaneous relieved and frustrated at once. Yes, Vorn had just prevented him from making a fool of himself, but it meant those gorgeous eyes were no longer looking in his direction, and it was once more like he never existed._

_The two Agents (for he'd noticed a wrist-strap matching Vorn's on the other man's arm) went back to flirting for a few more minutes before the latter made some excuses, kissed Vorn goodbye and turned to leave._

"_Don't I get a kiss too?" Tony blurted out before he could stop himself, and then to his horror felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment._

_The new Agent turned back to him though, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes. Suddenly he stepped forward into Tony's personal space and ran a thumb gently across one of his cheeks._

"_I was right," he said quietly, too close and yet much too far away. "Red is definitely your colour."_

_He leaned closer, closer, closer until…_

"_See you around eye-candy," Tony felt breathed over his lips. And then the other man was gone, a wink tossed over his shoulder as a parting gift, sauntering away through the throng of people around the room that Tony hadn't even noticed. He followed him with his eyes until inevitably that lovely figure was swallowed up by the crowd._

_He turned back to see that Vorn was laughing at him._

"_You got it _bad_ kiddo," the Agent chuckled._

_Tony didn't answer, because if this was falling in love, he wondered why it felt like his heart was breaking._

TBC

**Huh, that got strangely angsty again towards the end. But look who's sort of back! And Ianto shall return in the next chapter.**

**I would love to hear what you guys thought!**


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